Ready To Fall
by Cerulea
Summary: Castiel falls from Grace for Dean.  This is the first fic I've posted!
1. Ready to Fall

Castiel had won the war in Heaven, and for the time being there was a tentative peace. After acquiring the weapons of Heaven, defeating Raphael's hordes was done easily and quickly. They folded like a house of cards, not wanting to be killed, and offered to bow down to a leader of Castiel's choosing. Of course the animosity remained, but being calculative and intelligent in the ways of warfare, Raphael's army played submissive to save their asses.

Castiel had thought naively that winning would make things easier. He was wrong. Now everyone was looking to him. He had somehow inherited a throne of authority in Heaven that he was very much uncomfortable with. The more Castiel learned about himself the more he realized he did not like to be the center of attention. He did not like everyone looking to him for the next step. Unlike many of his brethren, Castiel was capable of admitting that he didn't have all the answers. But now that he had defeated Raphael, the other angels looked at him as if he did.

Some of the highest ranking archangels now treated Castiel like a General, a war-hero, the Cesar of Heaven. And Castiel took on the role gracefully, by delegating to those he knew were good, that could be trusted to do the right thing. This was a very human thing to do however, and the archangels were concerned by that. Angels are soldiers of God, they thrive on hierarchy and strict, decisive, certain orders. The archangels became concerned that Castiel's pension for advising his brothers and sisters to essentially 'follow their hearts' was bringing the angels down to the level of humanity. This could not be allowed. They were quick to see that Castiel's behavior was a result of his relationship with the Winchesters, specifically the elder. It was easy to blame Castiel's fondness of Dean for his strange methods of ruling and reasoning, because he often put Dean before the turmoil of Heaven.

It was clear to the high-ranking angels that the relationship between the two could not continue if Castiel was going to rule Heaven. He needed to be able to be ruthless, forceful, and not distracted by Earthly concerns and human emotions. These top angels discussed what was to be done and decided they must end Castiel's distraction for the sake of their, even now, very questionable peace in Heaven Then they decided how it would be done. They sent one of their most authoritative and respected, but softer spoken Archangels to relay their decision to Castiel.

The Archangel looked at his younger brother, who had become more important to Heaven than anyone could have anticipated. "You have a choice, Castiel. Dean Winchester's role is done. Any further fraternization between you two is nothing but a distraction from your true duties. Let us take him home."

"You mean kill him," Castiel responded darkly.

"He will be in Heaven, Castiel. He will finally have peace."

"Peace? He'll be dead."

"Such things did not used to matter to you. He is one human. One man. Your value here is unmeasurable. It is a small price to pay to have your undivided attention."

"Dean has exceeded our every expectation, done everything we asked. And you intend to repay him by cutting his life short."

"His mortal life. He will be forever calmed and comforted in Heaven." The archangel could see that reasoning with Castiel was getting him nowhere, so he dug into his Angelic bag-of-tricks and tried guilting him into it. "You are obligated, Castiel. You owe Heaven and your Father the duty of bringing Heaven back to its former glory. You are obligated to put the good of the Host of Heaven before this one man."

Castiel's heart throbbed for the pull of that obligation to his Father, never wanting to disappoint. But in truth, he'd already made up his mind. It was done. "I am obligated, and yet I can't. I cannot agree to this."

"Whether you are able or not is of no matter. It will be done. You cannot be allowed to muddle your concerns with those of humanity. It will bleed into your role here. It will lessen your strength as a soldier and a leader. We must stay definite and removed from them. I know you care for Dean Winchester. I am sorry. But as I said, it will be done."

Castiel knew from his tone it was true. "You will kill him now, because I am affected by him, and you don't want his effect on me to interfere with Heaven. You will kill him because of me." Castiel said it out loud to clarify for himself; the Archangel let him think. Castiel looked at the Archangel suddenly, straightening his stance, his eyes hard and resolved. "Very well," he said flatly. "I will do it."

"We are willing to do this for you brother. To spare you -"

"No. I will do it myself. I owe him that much. He's going to die because of me."

The Archangel smiled, impressed with the younger angel. "Soon," he demanded. And then he was gone.

In Castiel's heart he knew that he could never kill Dean. In his soul he knew that he felt a loyalty and affection toward him that outweighed that of a soldier to his general. As a result he lied to his general, the Archangel. He would not follow this order. And he knew it wouldn't be long before they realized. He went immediately to the Angels of his garrison, the troops he lead in the war against Raphael, and spoke to those he most trusted. He whispered in a conspiratorial tone of what they were to do, how they were to carry on, in the event that he should no longer be able to lead them. They agreed with fervor to follow his guidance. To always do their best and keep away the selfish corruption that Angels like Zachariah had allowed in Heaven before now. To try not to let fighting be the first instinct and to have mercy on their brothers and sisters and most of all, man.

Then Castiel went to a favorite place of his. It was an isolated edge of the Kingdom of Heaven, where he could focus, and see Dean tuning-up the Impala after it's recent brush with a State Trooper's Patrol Cruiser. Castiel clutched a charm in his hand - something that would allow him to fall and yet still keep his vessel. It would do him no good, he thought, to rocket down to Earth a disembodied soul. His reasons for keeping this vessel were selfish really. The desire to keep Jimmy Novak stemmed from nostalgia and the knowledge that this was the face Dean would know, the form he'd be used to. And Castiel desperately wanted to be known when he crashed down. He wasn't sure if he'd even remember his own name let alone Dean's, but even if he didn't, somehow he felt like everything would be better if he ended up with Dean looking after him.

He breathed deep and clutched the charm, and he fell.

As he rocketed down toward Earth in a blaze, like a comet, he ripped the Grace from his body, which felt like ripping off his own skin and pulling out his own bones one at a time. When he did he felt his wings burn off and flake away as ash. He lost all strength. He vaguely felt himself plummeting and then - - -

Dean was hot in the sun. It was two in the afternoon and the sun was radiating off of all of the twisted metal and glass in Bobby's scrap yard. He was leaning under the hood of the Impala cursing to himself as sweat stung his eyes when suddenly there was a crash that shook the ground and vibrated in the Impala's frame. Dean hit the deck, crouching in front of his car, peering out across the junkyard to see if he could find where the crash had come from. It sounded like a bomb, or like a satellite had fallen out of the sky and landed twenty feet away. But he was Dean Winchester, and he didn't have falling-satellite kind of luck. He had crash-landing-demon kind of luck. There was no way that this explosion was not in some way supernatural. So he grabbed a shotgun from the trunk and headed warily into the maze of wrecked cars to where he could see the mushroom cloud of dust. He noticed one tower of hopeless cars had been crunched down to only a few feet of scrap metal with the force of what hit it. As the dust cleared Dean could make out a figure, laying across the top of this pile and he cocked the rifle, but when the dust cleared he dropped it again, his eyes wide.

It was Castiel, lying there crumpled and unconscious across the hood of the pancaked cars.

Dean rushed over and checked if he was alive, not sure if Angels even had a heartbeat. He had a pulse. "Cas?" he called desperately, praying he'd wake up.

Cas' eyes fluttered open. He blinked several times, adjusting to the light, and then his eyes found Dean and focused on him. "I made it." His voice was barely a rasp but somehow, the tone was light.

"Cas, what the Hell! Are you ok?"

Castiel smiled to himself. He was almost delerious with the realization that he'd succeeded in falling, staying Jimmy, and staying alive - not to mention the heat was getting to him, and the brightness, and the fact that he was in extreme pain. This is what it felt like to have no Grace - sore. He was human. He let out a dizzy chuckle.

"Cas, you're freakin' me out. What happened to you?"

Castiel unclenched the hand that had held the charm, and Dean saw the little gold coin had burned its image into Castiel's palm. He gingerly removed the charm, shoving it in his pocket, and then helped Castiel up. Once standing, Castiel swayed on his feet, having to lean heavily on Dean.

"I made it," Castiel said smiling at Dean.

"You said," Dean said in a sharp tone, demanding an explanation.

"Dean," Cas stared at him, his smile reaching his eyes. Dean was utterly baffled, not only by the circumstances but by the look of Castiel - he looked...different. Something was off. Castiel looked like he was going to say something important so Dean stilled, leaning in to listen... "I think I'm hungry."

That was not what Dean expected. "...What?"

"I've fallen a long way, Dean. It's not unreasonable -"

"Woah! Wait - you '_fell'_? You mean like, _City of Angels_, plummeted to Earth, ripped out your Grace and became mortal kind of 'fell'?"

"Exactly. I am...man."

"Cas - how? - why? Dude! This is the kind of thing you discuss with your friends before you just do it!"

"There was no need for discussion. I wanted it. It had to be done."

"Dude..."

"Yes. Dude, indeed."

"Why?"

Castiel wanted to say _For you._ but he didn't. He simply smiled at Dean and shook his head. "Dean, just help me inside."

"Fine. But don't think you're getting out of explaining this 'cause you're not -"

"Yeah, yeah..." Castiel let out, and it sounded oddly natural.

Dean shook his head and slung Cas' arm over his shoulder, pulling the swaying man along toward the house. "Ten minutes as a human and I'm already catching attitude."

Cas chuckled to himself and Dean smiled at the sound.

Castiel's whole body hurt, he was hungry, his eyes were burning and it was so friggin' hot - but Castiel felt more like himself now than he ever had before. He would have to explain this somehow, have to learn how to be human, and how not to get killed, and probably have to go find his Grace (wherever it landed) just to keep it out of the wrong hands. But somehow, he felt happy. He was finally one of his Father's beloved. He was finally with the person who meant the most to him.

His Grace, for Dean. It was a fair trade.


	2. When the Smoke Clears

**OK, so this is the second installment in _Ready to Fall_. It picks up where Ch.1 left off, Castiel having fallen from Grace. I'm not sure how many installments there are gonna be with this story because I only intended it to be a one-shot. But now I'm kind of liking the idea of it being a whole EPIC SAGA OF FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE! ...or something.**

**Please review, let me know if you like how it's coming along. Thanks guys.**

Chapter 2

When the Smoke Clears.

Bobby was surprised to say the least, to see Dean stumbling into the back door with the Angel of Thursday hanging crumpled from his side.

"The Hell happened to him?"

Dean answered grimly, "Genius here took a nose-dive into the mortal coil."

Bobby straightened up immediately in surprise, and looked to Castiel for confirmation. Cas simply looked away, not wanting to have to explain himself. Dean plopped him down onto the couch and the former angel winced.

"Why in the Hell would you do that?" Bobby demanded.

"Because I enjoy your company so much, Bobby," Castiel deadpanned.

The two men stared at him. _Did Castiel just make a joke? Was that...sarcasm?_ Good God, he was already more human than he'd ever been.

Just then Sam walked in with a bag of groceries, giving the others a quick nod before heading to the fridge. But as he reached for the refrigerator's handle he paused - he turned back toward the others and squinted over at Castiel. "What's wrong with you?" he asked curiously, sensing something was off. "You don't look right."

"Sharp eye, Sammy," Dean said impressed.

"I'm mortal." Cas said it as though he was exhausted from having to say it over and over, letting the words out with a sigh.

"What? Again? What happened?" Sam stepped closer.

"I Fell. Ripped out my Grace and plummeted to Earth. I landed in Bobby's back yard."

"_Landed_ is putting it nicely," Dean jibed.

"Wait, why would you do that? Did you want to? I mean, was it...intentional?"

"Yes."

"Oh..." Sam wrapped his mind around this, trying to be as accepting and understanding as possible despite the fact that his brain hadn't entirely processed it yet. "Well... congratulations."

Dean and Bobby shot Sam a look.

"What?" Sam yelled defensively, "What are you supposed to say in this situation?"

Dean shook his head at his little brother, looking back at Castiel, noticing he was looking uncomfortable. "Cas, you ok?"

"Uh...yes. I am, I think...I feel...Unfortunately, I do not know what I feel."

"You look hot."

Sam and Bobby glanced at each other.

Castiel cocked his head at Dean and he explained, "Your face is all red. I can see from here you're sweating bullets. It's ninety degrees out and you're still wearing the damn trench coat." He moved to the couch to help the now very sore Castiel remove his coat. Once it was off, Castiel took a deep breath. "I think you were right," he said to Dean. "I feel better."

"Here, you don't need this," Dean said, sliding off the suit jacket as well. When it was off, Castiel sat back hard against the couch as if it had taken every ounce of effort to lean forward and remove those layers. He leaned his head back against the couch and he closed his eyes, obviously spent. His hand reached up lazily for his tie loosening it even further than usual.

"How could you not know what you feel?" Sam asked, brows furrowed. "You were mortal once before, remember? Isn't it the same now as it was then?" Leave it to Sam to acknowledge the small details.

"I think there must have been something different about what happened to me then. Everything feels different now."

"Are you, you know, gonna be alright?" Dean asked sitting down on the couch beside him.

"I have no idea," Cas responded, closing his eyes.

"I'll get researching," Bobby said, already heading downstairs to the panic room for a certain book he thought might have useful lore.

With his eyes still closed Castiel started rubbing his hands across his smudged face, then scratching at his arms. When he started scratching his chest Dean asked, "What is that? What are you doing?"

"I'm itchy."

"You know 'itchy' but you don't know 'hot'?" Sam asked confused.

Dean ignored his brother. "You've got little bits of car on you I think," he said observing the dirt and grime and probably pulverized glass on Castiel's face and neck. "It might feel good to wash up. Go take a shower if you want." But Cas didn't move. He was too exhausted and the pull of sleep was so inviting. Dean saw him about to drift off and he nudged him awake. "You'll feel awful if you go to sleep like this. Go on. Take a shower. I'll find you some clothes that aren't _that_," he said motioning to Castiel's oh so familiar holy tax accountant get-up.

Castiel nodded, leaning forward to get up but not getting any farther than that - everything hurt, he felt so heavy. Dean noticed him struggle and got up, moving in front of Castiel and reaching out a hand. Cas reached for it and Dean helped pull him off the couch, leading him toward the bathroom. He turned on the water for him, explaining it would need a minute to warm up.

"You know how to do this right?" he asked suddenly, realizing the things Cas did and didn't understand about the logistics of humanity were random at best. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason he could discern as to what he knew and what he didn't.

Cas nodded, "I've seen people take showers before," he said as if it should be obvious.

"Ok," Dean said turning to leave. Then it hit him what Cas had actually said and he turned back. So what...Cas was a peeping Tom now? Watching people shower from up in Heaven? Dean was tempted to ask for clarification but instead just shook his head, "You know what, I'm just gonna pretend like I don't want to know."

Cas was too tired to ask what Dean meant. Dean stepped out, closing the door behind him and Castiel shed his clothes, folding them neatly on the sink. He stepped into the shower and reveled in the feel of the spray against his skin, the warmth of the water spreading relaxation through his muscles. As a man, this felt different; each droplet of water felt almost solid. He let it hit his face, just standing there for minutes on end. He rubbed his skin until he felt like all of the dust and debris was gone. He was so comfortable in the shower, so enjoying the revitalizing feel of the water thrumming against his skin, that he could have stayed there for hours. But he was becoming too tired to lift his arms. He turned off the water and stepped out.

There in the foggy mirror, he caught a glimpse of someone familiar. Castiel stopped, and took a proper look at his reflection. The man in the glass looked...wet. But other than that, he just looked normal. A regular guy, with pale skin and dark hair and pink lips and blue eyes with subtle lines at their corners. Before now, Castiel had never looked at himself, never bothered to see himself as this man. But now here he was. _This_ was him. He smiled, noticing that it looked strange - not at all how he would picture himself to look.

As humans went, he was almost...pretty. He didn't look nearly as odd as he always felt.

He examined himself for a long time. It felt necessary, like an introduction that was long overdue. Usually he felt very out of sorts with his physical self. But he was feeling more and more like he and this body were one by the minute.

There was a knock at the door. "Cas?" Dean called from the other side, "I've got some clothes. Their mine. Sam is too huge - his pants would just fall right off you. They're clean. You want 'em?"

"Yes," Castiel answered concisely.

Dean opened the door and was met with the sight of naked Cas and immediately whirled around, "Woah! - dude..." He reached behind himself to offer Cas the clothes, "Here, take them." Castiel did, and started getting dressed straight away. Dean simply waited, his back to Cas, until he could hear he was decent. Then he turned to see the angel of Thursday in a white undershirt, ripped blue-jeans that were riding low as a result of being just a tad too big, and a messy mop of dark, wet hair. Dean laughed to himself at the sight of it.

"What?" Castiel asked, looking over his body self-conscious, "is it not sufficient?"

"No, no. You look fine. You just look so..._normal_." Dean laughed again, "Dude, you look like an add for Hanes or something."

"Is that good?"

"I guess. I think, from a distance at least, you're gonna blend in just fine." Dean tossed him a pair of socks and walked out.

Castiel put on his socks and shoes, grabbed the dusty remnants of his 'Castiel-suit' from off the sink and headed downstairs, practically sleepwalking.

Cas barely made it to the cot they'd set up for him before he was utterly unconscious. He practically collapsed onto the thing, sitting upright with his head hanging low, his shoulders stooped, his eyes fluttering open and shut as he tried desperately to stay awake. He couldn't even life his arms, which felt like lead, and he couldn't even muster the strength to actually lay back. Dean had to go over and give him a shove about the shoulders; Cas fell straight back. "Thanks," he barely made out.

"Don't mention it," Dean retorted walking away. Cas was asleep before he heard the footsteps fade.

Several hours later Castiel was still sprawled across the cot in Bobby's living room, now face-down with an arm hanging off, his shoes still on, his white under-shirt riding up around his ribs. Bobby stood with his arms crossed against his chest observing this mess of a man. He shook his head. "Oh boy..." he let out quietly. He hadn't noticed Dean walk in quietly behind him.

"What's up?" Dean whispered, not wanting to wake Castiel.

Bobby turned to look at him, "Oh nothin'. Angel-face is snoozin' away in here." Bobby took a deep breath and headed for the stairs, "Never thought I'd see the day," he said starting up the stairs. "Good night," he gave a half-assed wave to Dean.

"Night. I'm gonna stay down here-"

"I figured."

Dean looked over to see a pillow and blanket already laid out on the couch. "Thanks," he called up the stairs after Bobby, getting a tired, "yep" in reply.

Dean stepped as quietly as he could over to the cot and looked down at the former angel sleeping there. He was breathing slowly and evenly and appeared to be at peace, even if his brows were furrowed. Satisfied there was no imminent threat of Castiel exploding or anything, Dean went over to the couch, kicked off his boots, and settled in to the faded cushions.

Castiel had strange visions in his sleep, memories of war and Heaven and strange thoughts of fire. It felt bizarre to dream, to see something he knew not to be real. But even in his deep sleep he felt the sudden change in his actual surroundings - a familiar presence had entered Bobby's house, and Castiel awoke almost immediately upon feeling it. The house was dark and quiet. As consciousness slowly dawned on Cas he took note of a soothing, rhythmic sound in the room and looked over to see Dean asleep on the couch, breathing lowly and steadily. Castiel felt again the presence that had woken him, and stood up slowly from his cot, feeling almost unbearably sore all over. He followed his instincts and went silently to the kitchen, where he was met with the sight of the mighty archangel. It was him, the one he had lied to, the one with the compassionate voice. The one to whom he'd promised to end Dean Winchester.

Castiel stood in place, staring at the archangel, trying to compose himself. He didn't want it to show that he was fragile, mortal, frightened. He wanted his brother to see "Castiel" the angel who had defeated Raphael. Not "Cas" - tired, hungry, confused.

There was a long moment of silence where the two just stood and stared at each other, Castiel finally understanding how it felt to be under the weight of one of those angelic gazes being only a mere mortal yourself.

The archangel looked at him with sadness in his eyes. "This was foolish Castiel." He crossed the room to his young brother, now a fragile incarnation of his once powerful self. "You are smarter than this. You had to know that we would find you, that we would know what you had done and come for you."

"Yes. But it is done. It cannot be undone. God is the only one who can make an angel. There is no way you can force me back."

The archangel shook his head. "You leave yourself unprotected. You leave _him_ unprotected." Castiel glanced over at the sleeping form of Dean Winchester. He knew that was true - now that he was mortal, he couldn't protect Dean or heal him or give him the inside intel on what danger could be coming their way. He'd given all that up and left his friends with an unprotected blindside. The archangel watched all of this play on Castiel's face. "What is your intent Castiel? Where do you go from here?"

Cas shook his head, "I don't know," he answered honestly.

The elder angel thought on that a moment. Then he said, "I am ordered to kill him." The archangel stared at the flannel and denim-clad lump on the couch, studying him.

Heaven could be just as cruel as the rest; they would give the order to kill Dean out of spite, and then say that it was righteous. Castiel watched his gentle giant of a brother very closely, knowing that if he had resolved to kill Dean he would have done it already. Cas hoped, with every fiber of his being, that his brother was swaying in his duties. Castiel prayed to the Father he'd forsaken that the archangel would show mercy.

Castiel knew the score - an archangel was unbeatable. He was desperate now, and scared, and if it came down to it he would die in some ridiculous attempt to give Dean a chance to escape - all of this showed in Castiel's soul, which the archangel found all too easy to read. Cas' knuckles were white, balled into fists at his sides as if the act was the only thing keeping him composed.

The archangel studied Castiel for what felt like an hour, but Cas knew to an angel (like he used to be), it was really only a moment. He was already losing his ability to relate to his brethren; it made him sad, and yet it also made him feel independent.

The archangel too looked somber. He smiled ever so slightly at Castiel, a complicated look behind his eyes. That shadow of a smile he gave was in both sadness, and fondness. "Goodbye Castiel." He said it softly, then he was gone.

As the breeze of the archangel's departure gusted through the room, Dean awoke with a sharp intake of breath. He sat up stiffly and blinked his eyes into focus, seeing Castiel standing in the middle of Bobby's dimly lit kitchen with his back to him. The hue of the room was almost blue, that first bit of morning light seeping through the unwashed windowpanes with the last moonlight of night. Dean got up and walked over to the man, stepping around in front of him. What he saw made him stop cold - Castiel was standing still as stone, silent tears rolling down his face.

"Cas?" Dean asked as gently as he could, his voice rough from sleep.

Slowly Castiel's eyes rose and met Dean's, and the former angel smiled at him. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean in a hug, and the Hunter was taken aback; he didn't quite know how to react. He slowly let his arms do the natural thing, wrapping around Castiel and patting him on the back.

It was only a moment, a simple gesture normal people do millions of times in their lives. But Cas had never done it before. And Dean, he hadn't done it enough.

It was...nice. Brief. Uncomplicated.

Cas pulled away, a genuine smile on his face. It was Dean's turn to tilt his head to the side in confusion, not understanding his friend. Cas patted him on the shoulder and went back to his cot, lying down under the warm blankets, so comfortable, so strangely at ease.

Dean stood, watching him settle in, thinking over his guardian angel's new humanity. He walked back to the couch and laid down, finding it easy to drift back into a pleasantly dreamless sleep.

It would be a long time before Castiel told Dean the true entirety of that morning's events.


	3. Arrhythmia

**Excuse the possibly totally inaccurate medical jargon coming your way. I'm not a doctor. I don't even play one on tv. ****But that's not the truly important stuff anyway. ;) And I also apologize for the lameness of just emoticon-ing at you...**

**Surprise Guest Appearance of a fan-favorite in this chapter!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

Arrhythmia

Dean awoke for the second time that morning and opened his eyes to see Castiel lying on the cot across the room, facing him, his face peaceful in sleep. Light from the window was cascading down and making his pale skin seem to softly glow. His dark hair was even more disheveled than usual and Dean swore he could see highlights like streaks of a lighter brown in the dark mop.

Castiel's eyes opened slowly, landing immediately on Dean's. The Hunter was embarrassed to have been caught staring at the man while he slept, and he panicked because he didn't know how to cover it. But Cas didn't seem to care, he gave Dean a brief smile, before something else over took his face. Dean was about to smile back when he noticed Castiel's change of expression. The former angel looked puzzled for a moment, and then as he tried to sit up and couldn't, Dean saw it - pain.

Castiel struggled, confused, trying to sit up but to no avail. Dean shot off the couch and went to the cot, kneeling beside it.

"Something...is wrong. It hurts," Cas growled out between clenched teeth.

"What hurts? Where?"

"My back," Castiel grunted the words out, trying to keep it together.

Dean immediately pulled down the blankets and lifted the white t-shirt exposing Castiel's bruise-stained back. Down the line of his spine was the blackest smudge of a bruise Dean had ever seen, and on either side were purple marks mushrooming out across the expanse of his shoulders and down his back - like a sick tattoo of where there might have once been wings...

"Jesus..." Dean whispered, seeing the mark. It was bad, really bad. He laid his palm flat, very gently, on the abused skin. Cas' skin was burning too hot, and he shrank away from the touch. "This wasn't here yesterday," Dean said, a hint of panic creeping into his voice.

"What is it?" Castiel said, trying desperately not to let the pain show in his voice.

"I don't know - a bruise. A huge, really, _really_ bad bruise?"

"It hurts to breathe. It hurts to move." Dean saw Cas was gripping the side of the cot so hard his knuckles were white.

"Ok - it's ok-" Dean was thinking what he should do. He got up, "Just don't move," and he ran up the stairs. He clamored down the hall and busted into the spare room to find Sam dead asleep with his face in the pillow. "Sam," he called in full voice, crossing the room to the bed. His brother woke with a start, staring around before his eyes landed on Dean who was rushing over to him with an alarming expression on his face.

"Dean? What's happening? What's wrong?"

"Come on, get up-"

"What?..." Sam asked rubbing his face and trying to quicken his still sleepy brain. "Something's wrong with Cas."

Sam examined his brother a moment, letting that information sink in. He pulled the covers back and got out of bed, following Dean downstairs.

It only took a brief examination for Sam to come to the decision that Cas needed to see a real doctor. Bruises weren't so scary, but Cas could barely move, and what really had Sam worried was that it seemed like he couldn't take a full breath. He was no Dr. Sexy, but Sam knew that you don't fool around with lung-trauma.

At the hospital they'd given all their false information and totally illegally acquired insurance, and come up with some bullshit story about how Castiel had fallen off a ladder. As soon as the Doctor took a listen to Cas' breathing and a peak at that too-dark stain on Cas' skin, he had him wheeled straight into a room and nurses started bustling in on his orders. Cas looked terrified, his big eyes turning to Dean's, not understanding the commotion or the need to hook him up to bags and wires and things that beeped. It was all very scary for someone who had essentially been invulnerable for a millenia. People were touching him and asking him questions and wanting to look at him and it was all just too much. Castiel shut like a clam and wouldn't say anything, wouldn't cooperate.

"He's afraid of Hospitals," Sam offered, trying to appease an irritated nurse. "It's like a phobia..." She huffed with the air of someone who'd dealt with their fair share of difficult patients already that day, before slapping some tape over the I.V. needle now settled in a vein in the top of Cas' hand. Cas jerked his hand away from her, examining the tape and needle with its tube. He looked from it to Dean.

"Cas, it's ok, just let them do their thing," Dean whispered almost too gently to sound like himself. Cas seemed to trust Dean's advice, but the Doctor ultimately had to dose Cas with a sedative to finish out doing the x-rays and tests.

It was a long morning of stale coffee and Musak in the waiting room for the Winchester brothers. Sam had filled Bobby in on the situation and Bobby promised to hit the books again. They were at a loss without some ancient text to say whether this was normal or not for an angel who's taken the plunge. When they finally were able to speak to the Doctor, having convinced him that they were Cas' cousins and the only family he had, the Doctor sounded genuinely flummoxed.

"I don't understand it. He's got hemorrhaging all over the place. A lot of broken blood vessels under his skin, that's what caused the bruising you saw," he explained to Dean who had been very emphatic in his description of the injury upon their arrival to the hospital, despite the fact that the Doctor was literally looking at it first hand. "Falling off a ladder couldn't have done that. Usually hemorrhaging like that can be a sign of a blood disorder, a clotting disorder, or even some cancers. But I've run all of those tests and they've come up negative. His white count is high, as is his temperature, but there aren't enough consistencies in the other symptoms for me to be comfortable diagnosing as Leukemia or Lymphoma. His lungs were bruised and full of fluid, that's what caused the shortness of breath you saw. We drained them so he should be able to breathe easy now. But the worry is what caused it. Does he have any conditions that you know of? Did his parents? We haven't been able to get a proper history."

"Uh..." Sam looked to Dean, who was swallowing hard, "No. No, they didn't."

"We're going to give him some pain meds for the deeper contusions, continue to monitor him, and then we'll have to run some more tests. I'm sorry, we just can't say at this time what is wrong."

"But he's ok, right?" Dean asked, pushing for a hopeful answer.

"He's stable, for now."

"You think it'll get worse?" Sam asked, wary of the Doctor's uncertain tone.

"There's no way to know. He could recover and be fine. Or his lungs could fill again, or the hemorrhaging could get worse... Without knowing what we're dealing with it's hard to know what to expect." With that the Doctor gave the boys a regretful look at walked away.

They sat back down in their plastic chairs in a daze. "He did fall. Literally, _fall_," Sam offered.

"Why wasn't he hurt last night?"

"Maybe his body took time to catch up? I don't know."

They traded ideas back and forth but no one proposal sounded more plausible than the last. After another hour Cas' medication was wearing off and his heavy eyelids opened to see Dean at his bedside. Dean explained the situation as the Doctor had and Castiel decided immediately and vehemently that he desired to leave. Dean was hesitant, explaining again to Castiel that the worst may not be over. But Cas didn't care. He wanted out. Dean could see the desperation in Cas' eyes and he caved more easily than he should have. If it had been Sammy he would have argued, barricaded him in, but something in Cas' eyes told him there was no use trying. He needed to be away from here or he was gonna lose it. Being here would be more detrimental than helpful.

They got an earful from Sam on the way back to Bobby's. He wished to air on the side of caution and stay at the hospital.

Bobby was surprised to see them back as well, reaming them over the stupidity of refusing medical assistance when there was nothing he or any of them could currently do. Cas' body hurt too much to expend the energy of arguing, so Dean defended him for him. He yelled until he was hoarse about the Doctors not knowing anything more than they did, and not keeping Cas locked up in that place like a hamster in a cage. Bobby and Sam knew Dean was as stubborn as could be, and thus unmovable on the subject. They resolved to figure this out on their own. They didn't really have a choice.

Sam took Bobby's car to the library.

Bobby made some calls.

Dean needed to blow off some steam and immediately headed outside to the scrapyard. Castiel didn't know what to do with the long hours of the day, so he simply followed Dean around like Peter Pan's shadow.

Dean crouched in front of the Impala fixing up a busted head light. It felt good to get back to what he had been doing before Castiel had so rudely interrupted him with his need to 'live'. After the suck-ass morning they'd just had, it felt good to be outside, in the sun, working on the car. This is what he does when he is upset. And he was.

Every once and awhile Dean would spare a glance to the fallen angel adorning the hood of a clunky old Oldsmobile a few yards away. There was quiet between the two men, but it was comfortable. Cas had been watching Dean tune-up the Impala, enjoying both the stillness of the afternoon, and not having to say anything. He enjoyed not having a celestial civil war to worry about. Not even having Dean to worry about, because he was right there, in his line of sight. He liked being able to keep an eye on him in person, even if in his current state he wouldn't be worth much in a fight. In this moment, nothing was after Castiel, no one was looking to him for commands or orders. Things felt blissfully simple. He'd closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sky, feeling the sun warm his skin.

Indoors, Sam was reading through the medical books he'd gotten from the public library, wanting to be sure that Cas' problem wasn't just some purely human defect. If Jimmy had cancer or hemophilia or something, they wouldn't be doing Cas any favors by avoiding modern medicine. So before they went looking for a hoodoo priest with some mojo-laying powers, Sam wanted to be sure. But he was interrupted when he heard a sound that was very unusual for Bobby's house - the doorbell. Sam got up, securing his pistol in the back of his pants, and went stealthily to the door. He peeked through the curtains and what he saw made him squint and make his patented _wtf?-_bitchface. He opened the door to reveal a gorgeous, blonde, if not a little over-made, **stark naked** young woman standing on Bobby's front porch with a large hard-back book in hand, blocking the view of her bosoms. Sam's mouth gaped open, he stared at the smiling woman not sure if he should shoot her or invite her in.

"Um...hi..."

"Sam Winchester?" she asked, her voice sugary sweet.

His eyes were wide, and he tilted his head, leaning away from her warily. "Uhh..."

She cut him off, "I have something, _all for you_."

He raised his eyebrows, looking this woman over - until his eyes stopped on the book. There on the front cover in bold gold font was the titling:

_"The Cro-Magnon's Guide to Medical Mysteries Plaguing Sissy-Ass Angel Rejects."_

Sam's head tilted to the side as he squinted at the book. "Am I dreaming?" he asked the woman. She smiled slyly.

Suddenly there was a voice behind him, a familiar voice, one he thought he'd never hear again - "You wish."

The beautiful woman and the snarky (and oddly accurate) book shimmered into nothing, disappearing before Sam's eyes. Slowly, he turned around...

Standing in Bobby's front hallway was one person Sam was naive enough to be sure he'd never see again. Small stature with a cocky stance, honey-brown hair, hazel eyes with a perpetual glint of mischief, and a sly smile.

Sam couldn't hide any of his disbelief, "Gabriel?"

"Ding, ding, ding!" the archangel smiled widely. Blowing Sam Winchesters mind? never got old.

Sam couldn't say anything. He just stared.

"How ya been, Sammy?"

"You're dead."

"Correction - I _was_ dead. Formerly. Much like yourself, I was dead as doornail. Like my little brother Castiel is about to be, thanks to you ignorant ass-clowns."

He let that register in Sam's mind, knowing it'd sunk in when he saw the concerned look set in on Sam's face.

"Sammy-boy," he walked up to the younger Winchester, "we have a lot to talk about."


	4. Borrowed Time

Chapter 4

"Borrowed Time"

Sam Winchester had seen a lot of weird stuff in his life that had plenty prepared him for the prospect of seeing the dead brought back to life. But somehow, the sight of the temporary-hero Archangel Gabriel standing plain as day in Bobby Singer's front hallway was throwing him for a loop.

Not a time loop...thank God. He couldn't survive the mystery spot twice in one lifetime.

Nevertheless, Sam found himself off his game. It took a few minutes for Gabriel's foreboding words to sink in. "Wait, Castiel is _dying_?" Sam asked, shoving aside the eight hundred questions about how the hell Gabriel was alive right now that were whizzing top-speed through his brain.

"Afraid so."

"How? Why? How do you know?...for sure, I mean?"

"Like I said, we need to talk. My brother around? Let me guess, he's with _your_ brother? Hold on-" Gabriel snapped his fingers and was gone.

Sam glanced around, but the hallway was empty.

Outside in the scrapyard Dean and Cas were relaxing in the afternoon sun sharing a beer. Dean was leaning against the side of the Oldsmobile Cas was perched on. They were sitting quietly until Gabriel popped into the scene. He miraculously appeared not five feet from the clunky old car and somehow to Castiel his presence was still unmistakable. Castiel knew it was him even before his eyes shot up to his.

"Howdy!" Gabriel smiled at Cas.

Knowing that voice, Dean whirled around, his eyes growing wide when he saw the archangel.

"Listen kids, we need to have a chat. Family meeting in five, k?" He winked at Dean and disappeared again.

There was a moment where both men simply stared at the space where the 'dead' archangel had just been, as if trying to decide whether that had actually just happened.

"What the - He's _dead_." Dean said dumbfounded, looking to Castiel for an explanation.

Castiel looked at Dean, not the least bit fazed by this turn of events. His voice was flat, "I would be extremely comfortable contesting that fact."

When Dean and Cas came into the house - very slowly because Castiel was extremely sore - they were greeted with the sight of Gabriel ushering a dumbstruck Bobby into the living room. The Winchesters and Bobby exchanged glances, each of them shrugging to the other. Castiel simply looked to his brother the archangel, almost smiling when the mirthful brown eyes caught his own.

Gabriel motioned for Cas to sit down. "Little brother, you have put yourself in a world of hurt." Gabriel pulled a necklace, a silver chain, out from his orange and brown plaid button-up. On the end was a small cylinder shining with the effervescent glow of bottled-Grace. Dean recognized it from when they had encountered Anna. Uriel had her Grace wrangled the same way. "Alright kid. Siesta's over."

Dean pointed at the necklace, "Is that his? How did you find that so fast?"

"Well, I've been trying to keep a low profile seeing as I'm supposed to be dead. But, I've been keeping my eye out. I saw this knucklehead go skydiving and I figured I ought to get to it before one of our less morally sound brothers got a hold of it."

"Thank you," Castiel said sincerely.

"Yeah, I know. I'm incredible. Now get up. And you three close your eyes or you're gonna be investing in a lot of sunglasses - Stevie Wonder style."

"No." Castiel's voice came out strong. Resolved. He'd already considered this. Finding his Grace would mean he'd always have the chance to change his mind, elect for a do-over and go back to Heaven. But it only cheapened his human experience. He'd made the decision to _live_. He was standing by it.

"Little brother, you don't have a choice," Gabriel said in his most menacing tone.

"If you break that open and send me back against my will I will simply Fall again." Castiel's tone was absolute.

Gabriel straightened up and took a deep breath. "Mortality feels that peachy to you, huh? How's your back? Cause sweetheart, that's only the beginning."

"What are you saying?" Bobby asked.

Gabriel hesitated, looking over Castiel's intrigued expression.

"Tell us what you know," Dean demanded. His voice was forceful and impatient.

"Very well," Gabriel said irritated, narrowing his eyes at Dean. "Hey Cas," he said sweetly, leaning down in front of his brother with his hands on his knees, "do me a favor..." He reached two fingers up to Castiel's forehead and pressed them lightly against his skin. Cas' eyes rolled up and fluttered closed. He slumped back into the couch. "Take a nap," Gabriel said, standing back upright.

"Hey!" Dean objected, furious.

"Quiet Rambo, I need to talk to you about what's happening here before I go breaking the news to him."

"Breaking what news?" Bobby asked warily.

Sam ducked his head, saddened by knowing what was coming. Dean saw this and his heart skipped a beat, he looked to Gabriel, desperate for the information.

"Cas here, he's in a bad way boys. He's not gonna make it."

The words hung in the air for a moment before Dean erupted, "What the hell do you mean, _Not gonna make it_? What're you saying - he's gonna die?"

Gabriel's face was a picture of sincere sadness that was rare for the angel. That's how the others knew it was true.

"I don't understand...He's fine. He's a little banged up but he's gonna be fine. It's just a damn bruise!" Dean's confusion was turning to anger before their very eyes.

Gabriel started, "It's more than that-"

"Just fix him," Dean demanded. Sam nodded vehemently in agreement.

"Sorry boys, no can do."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked. "You're an archangel. That should be well within your wheelhouse."

Gabriel looked embarrassed, "It _should_ be, yes. I wish I could. But I can't."

"Can't, or Won't?" Dean seethed.

"_Can't_. And fuck you very much." Gabriel shot Dean a look that warned him to stop doubting his affection for his little brother. He explained, "Healing him would only heal him for right now. It's a temporary fix at best. I could heal him for the moment, and then his body would immediately start to give up again. The problem isn't fixable, it's _who_ he is. It's _what_ he is."

They all waited for an explanation.

Gabriel's voice was uncharacteristically patient as he tried to explain, "An angel isn't built to exist in a mortal form. It's like, we're too much for the human body to handle."

"But you take vessels," Sam argued.

"Which we control and keep vital by way of our Grace. Castiel has no Grace. Not anymore."

"But it's the Grace that'll burn a human's eyes out, that makes you guys all...explosive. So without it, Cas isn't volatile to his vessel right? Without it he should be like a diffused bomb. If the Grace is what makes you not-human, and Cas doesn't have any more Grace, then there shouldn't be any incompatibility and he shouldn't be in any danger of...self-destructing. He shouldn't need any Grace to stay alive." Sam said this all as though it made perfect sense, and Gabriel understood what he was getting at. Bobby was just about wrapping his mind around Sam's argument and he nodded in agreement.

Dean, however, was ready to kill something. "This is making my head hurt," he said seething, rubbing his temples.

"You could drive yourself crazy trying to make it make sense. That's Dad for ya." Gabriel tried to put it simply, "It's a paradox. With their Grace, an angel by definition can never be human. Without it, they cannot survive in human form. Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

The three men were silent. They'd run out of arguments.

"How could we not know that?" Dean asked in utter denial. He was always shocked to find out some myth they'd believed forever was far from the truth. Somehow he figured, nothing supernatural should be beyond them at this point.

"A couple years ago you didn't even know we existed," Gabriel pointed out.

"But...how did Anna survive then?" Dean asked, remembering the Grace-less angel who had adopted her human form all too well.

"Rare case. She was re-born. She created a whole new life, a whole new being. Something about that process kept her contained. Her conscious mind buried the truth of her history, allowed her soul to convince itself it was human, built a new person completely starting from scratch. If she hadn't taken her Grace back so soon after she remembered everything, she'd have been in the same boat. Cas is self-aware. He knows what he is. He remembers a million years of Heavenly crap. It's too much for his human body and soul to take. There's no turning that off now."

"What if there was?" Sam asked, obviously on the verge of an epiphany.

Dean looked at his brother with narrow eyes - Sam was hatching yet another plan that would probably work, but that Dean would find despicable despite that fact.

Sam continued, "If it's as easy as making him forget, we can do that. I mean, we've done harder things right? I've got a brick wall up in my head right now. We can do something like that for Cas."

There was a moment of quiet where everyone considered. Everyone but Dean. "No." His voice was low, solid.

Gabriel looked at Sam, doubtful but considering his idea as a viable possibility. "That might actually work-"

"No," Dean repeated, "We'll find another way."

"What? Why?" Sam asked, immediately pissed at his brother's dismissal of his brilliant idea.

"We're not gonna do that to him, Sam."

"Do what? Take away thousands of years of literally incomprehensible memories that mostly have to do with war and pain? Take away the memory of dying? _Twice_. Look Dean, technically, he could just start all over. Like a guy with retrograde amnesia."

"We'd be taking away his...his..._him_-ness. We'd be taking away _Cas_. Everything that makes him who he is!"

"Ultimately, I think it's going to have to be up to him. He can die as Castiel or live as...John Doe McBlueEyes," Gabriel settled it. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't one to pander, and he wasn't about to stand there while Sam and Dean launched into some kind of brotherly fit.

Dean's brain was racing - everything they'd been through, all of the strides Castiel had taken that made him the brave, self-sufficient individual he was now...that would all be erased. Castiel was the picture of greatness, Dean thought, the epitome of personal triumph. And if they erased that, he'd just be...any random guy who'd never done anything great, or been anything great. Castiel had given his life to save the world, he deserved to carry that with him. And not knowing who you are, where you came from, why no one's looking for you...that could drive someone nuts. It's not like they could send him back to the Novaks - he _wasn't_ Jimmy Novak. He'd just be alone and confused and Dean couldn't handle the thought of that.

"Alright," Bobby said, breaking the silence. "Wake him up and see what he wants to do."

Gabriel tapped Castiel's shoulder and he blinked awake, embarrassed. "I wish you wouldn't do that," he said shaking his head to wake himself up.

"Look kid, you've got a big decision to make. So put your grown-up hat on."

"Cas," Dean's voice was strained, "it looks like we may be in some trouble here. You're uh...you're sick. Really sick." Cas' eyebrows knit together as he stared at Dean, waiting for more information, and Dean suddenly couldn't continue.

Sam picked up for him, "The deal is this, Angels can't survive in human form once they've fallen - it's a myth. Gabriel can't heal you. But we think we might have a way," Dean turned away, shaking his head, obviously in disagreement with whatever Sam was going to say and Castiel watched him carefully as Sam continued. "We think that if we wipe your memory, you might be able to survive under the illusion that you're just some regular guy. If you forget all of your...angel-ness, maybe your mortal soul won't be so overwhelmed."

Castiel looked at Dean, but the man wouldn't meet his eyes; he'd paced to the other side of the room and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"You're saying I will not survive," Castiel clarified.

Sam's eyes were apologetic, Bobby and Gabriel both looked at the floor, Dean turned away.

"I don't understand," Castiel stated simply.

"Honestly, neither do we." Sam explained, "Apparently, it's the Grace that keeps you from combusting when you take a vessel. And now you don't have that, so..."

Gabriel looked at his brother sincerely, "Castiel, when an angel Falls, it doesn't make him a man. It makes him a Fallen angel." Gabriel let that sink in before making it perfectly clear, "We can never be men." There was a note of regret in his voice that Sam couldn't help but latch on to.

Castiel's eyes drifted downward as he took in that information. All of the joy and the relief he'd felt to finally be human, it was all just...false hope. He wasn't one of his Father's beloved. He was an outcast. Now more than ever. He felt a pang of regret, and he spoke with his voice deep, trying not to let anything show, "So I'm dying?"

"That's how it looks, kid," Gabriel answered.

"How it _looks_, or how it _is_?" Castiel said crossly.

The others just looked around to each other - they didn't know. They couldn't be sure. There was no rulebook on this stuff after all. Physically, they could see his body was shutting down, that he couldn't take much more of what he'd gone through this morning. Had they not gotten him to the hospital, he may have suffocated _today_. But this was no exact science. Castiel nodded, as if to say he understood that they could not provide him with an answer.

"What do you suggest?" he asked very business-like.

"Re-Grace yourself," Gabriel said as though it was obvious, dangling the necklace in front of his face.

"No." Castiel shot their most reasonable option down flat. Maybe for Dean's sake. Maybe for himself. Honestly, he wasn't sure. "What else is there?"

Bobby said, "We might be able to do something like what was done to Sam, put a wall up in your head. No tellin' if it'll work. But it might be worth a try if it means keeping you alive."

"You'd have to forget," Dean said, his voice tight. "Everything."

Castiel nodded, assessing the weight of that cost.

Castiel took some time to consider his options. He pretended for Sam's sake to give credence to the idea of wiping his memory. But in reality, he couldn't stomach the thought of it. It was a good idea, if he was being honest. It gave him the best chance at a normal life. But he didn't want normal.

Gabriel would never admit to it, but he secretly tracked the direction of his brother's thoughts, knowing what he'd chose before Cas knew himself. The idea of 'self' was something Castiel had fought very hard to come to terms with. It would be very hard for him to turn his back on it now. And Gabriel saw that he would never go back to being an Angel, not while Dean was alive.

Thus, Castiel made his decision. He said out loud: "I'd rather live, and die, as me."

What he didn't say out loud was that he couldn't bear the thought of living without at least the memory of Dean. Losing Dean felt sickeningly like losing himself.

He couldn't do it.

Dean was thankful, which made his stomach twist with guilt. He should want Cas to _live_, at any cost. Wanting him to never change was selfish and it was going to cost the former angel his life. But knowing Cas would be out there in the world but not remember him, not care about him, not even know he'd literally fought his way through Hell for him...it would feel so wrong.

The Winchesters and Bobby tried to convince Cas that he shouldn't throw his life away, that they'd find another way, that he should re-Grace himself. Dean argued til he was blue in the face. But Cas was calm and resolved. He made them promise no deals were to be made, no life-for-life trades of any kind, no soul-bargaining. Reluctantly, they agreed.

"How long?" Castiel asked Gabriel calmly.

"I'm sorry, I don't know."

"Well aren't you helpful," Dean taunted darkly.

The anger that flared in Gabriel's eyes as he turned on Dean was very real. Sam and Bobby tried to get between them, but it seemed the two were intent on duking it out - not an intelligent move on part of Dean, being the only mortal in that equation. Gabriel had technically _already_ killed him like a hundred times before.

They seethed at each other until Castiel rose and stepped between them. "I'd like to speak to you alone," he said to Gabriel. The shorter man's anger retreated as he looked upon his younger brother. He nodded to Castiel, who then turned to Dean and stared him in the face.

Dean got the message. He physically shook off his rage and stalked out of the room, Sam and Bobby trailing behind him.

Castiel turned back to Gabriel once they were gone. "Thank you, for coming here. know you cherish your anonymity. This must have put you back on the radar."

"Probably," Gabriel shrugged like he wasn't sweating it.

"How did you come to be alive again? God?" Cas asked curiously, trying not to sound so childishly hopeful.

But Gabriel saw it. It was plain as day how much Cas still wanted to believe. "I don't know, kid. Last I remember I'm getting shanked by Lucifer, then there's a long stretch of nothingness, then I open my eyes and a baton-wielding Seattle Flatfoot is nudging me awake and telling me to 'move along'. I woke up on a park bench. It was the day Sam jumped into the box. Somehow I knew that. I knew everything that had gone on since I died."

"Maybe God was rewarding you, for your valiant stand against the devil," Cas suggested.

"Maybe," Gabriel said, humoring him.

Castiel nodded. He stared at the Grace hanging around Gabriel's neck. He reached out and held the small cylinder containing what he now knew was essentially his life force between his thumb and index finger. He stared at it a long, quiet moment. "I'd like you to keep this," he requested. Gabriel looked almost unprepared for such a request, he looked down at the floor. "I would rest easier knowing it was with you, than not knowing where it was at all," Castiel convinced him.

Gabriel nodded. He slipped the Grace back inside his shirt.

Cas gave him a small smile and turned to walk away.

"Castiel," Gabriel called, "if you don't take this back, you'll die." Gabriel rested his hand over the Grace hiding beneath his shirt, giving convincing Cas to come back to Angel-hood one last go.

"I'm aware," Cas replied, looking unworried.

"It's worth it?"

Castiel took a deep breath. He glanced around the room, taking his time before he answered. "I believe so. Yes." He smiled at the archangel, who looked at him with a flattering kind of wonder, and then Castiel walked out.

Castiel passed Dean, Sam and Bobby in the kitchen arguing in hushed tones and went outside to the Impala. He sat on the car's hood and looked up at the sky - it was clear tonight, the sky was the darkest blue. The night was warm, but there was just enough breeze for it to be comfortable and Castiel liked the way it moved around his clothes. There was so much to consider, but his mind was oddly clear.

Something in Castiel's controlled emotion as he left the house told Dean not to follow. In stead he went back to the living room followed by Sam and Bobby and found Gabriel still hanging about, as if in a daze. He looked up, collecting himself and reassembling his facade as they walked in. "Well, boys. That's all the time we have."

"So what, you're just gonna leave?" Dean raged. "A minute ago you were all, _Oh, that's my little brother there!"_

_"_Now you're just gonna peace out like you've got better things to do?" Sam accused, his eyes boring into the archangel.

"There is nothing I can do. That's rare for me. I'm not gonna sit around and watch him waste away as a result of his own stupidity. I don't deserve that. If God wanted to send me to Hell he should've just done it, but I'm not gonna sit here and watch my brother die. I can't. And I'm sure as shit done explaining myself to _you_," the last word dripped with disdain as Gabriel stared at Sam, somehow making the much taller man feel very small. "Well..." Gabriel rocked back on his heels, suddenly aloof again, "I think if we're all done feeling sorry for ourselves, I'll be on my way." Gabriel tried to be cold, Sam and Dean could see him pretend not to care. But it was so painfully obvious that he was pretending that they didn't dare to say anything.

As quickly as he'd blown back into their lives, he was gone again. Gabriel had left behind a heavy cloud of knowledge that weighed on each of them. Everything was different now.

...

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter was a pain in my ass and I'm still not that happy with it, but I'm ready to move the heck on. So I hope it's ok.<strong>


	5. Last Chance, Angel

Chapter 5

"Last Chance, Angel"

There's nothing like being handed a Death Sentence to put things in perspective.

Dean grabbed a bottle of whisky from a creaky cabinet and headed out to the Impala. When he got there Castiel was very engrossed in his star-gazing, his brows somewhat furrowed at the sky. Dean noticed that he didn't look distraught or angry. He looked like his usual pensive self. His eyes only broke away from the sky to look at Dean when he felt the man sitting down beside him. Castiel examined Dean closely, seeing his mind and heart were heavy. Dean opened up the bottle of whisky, unscrewing the cap and tipping the bottle up to his lips. As he took a long pull from the bottle, Castiel watched like it was something truly interesting, especially when Dean lowered the bottle from his lips, licked them, and then gave a high-pitched _whew_ in appreciation of the liquor's strength.

Dean passed the bottle to Castiel who tipped it back without a thought, immediately coughing and choking the moment the liquid hit his throat. Apparently the burn of alcohol, while nothing to an Angel of the Lord, can be a little abrupt to a man who technically has never had a single drink in his mortal life.

As Castiel bent over, coughing, Dean took the bottle from his hands and rubbed the former angel's back. "Woah, woah!" he said surprised, trying to ease Castiel's choking. "Guess you don't have the same tolerance you used to," he said with a laugh in his voice.

Castiel sat back up, eyes teary, face red and said with a rough voice, "Apparently not."

Dean took another swig and again Castiel watched intently. Feeling his gaze Dean asked, "You wanna try again?"

Castiel nodded and took a long pull from the bottle, handling it well now that he was prepared.

After about an hour of sitting together and drinking in silence half the bottle was gone and Castiel was feeling warm from the inside out. Warm and light, and the ache of his body had dulled significantly. He stared over at Dean who was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Castiel reached out and took the edge of Dean's t-shirt sleeve between his fingers, examining the fabric closely as he ran his fingers over it.

"Uh...dude..." Dean stared at Castiel. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Everything feels so...visceral," Castiel explained.

"Congratulations," Dean snarked sarcastically. "Why are you touching _me_?"

Castiel took a deep breath before letting it come out as a huff, dropping his hand from Dean's shirt. There was a long moment of silence between them before Castiel stated plainly, "I find I'm feeling differently about things now that I know I will soon be dead."

Dean looked at him with pained irritation, "Jeez, Cas - do you have to say it like that?"

Castiel didn't respond. Bluntness was his style. He never understood Dean's constant objection to statements of truth. Instead Castiel just kept going with his original train of thought. "I've envied humanity for a long time. I'm not afraid to die. But there are things, that I wish to have done."

"Like what?" Dean asked. Castiel responded with silence, and the answer clicked into place in Dean's mind. "Oh..."

"I know I will not have much time. Not enough time for true love."

Dean's heart panged with hurt at that; it was strange to hear Cas talking about love. Dean never would have thought of him as a Romantic. Love, sex, was something so...human. Something they now knew he would never get to find. It seemed tragic.

Cas continued, "But I find that there are things about love you can find in friendship." Dean supposed this was true. Castiel stated, "You are my friend. And you know a great deal about physical love."

This was suddenly going in a direction that caused Dean to try desperately to be naive. Dean stalled, waiting for Cas to say something that negated his suspicions of where this was going. But Cas simply stared into Dean's eyes, waiting for a response. His face was unashamed, unafraid, simply expectant.

"Cas...are you...propositioning me?"

"Yes."

Castiel's response was quick and flat and that blew Dean's mind. "Wow."

"Is 'Wow' Yes?"

"Uh...hold on. Let me just... This is weird though, right?"

"In comparison to the lives we've led thus far? Not at all."

"Good point."

"Then it's settled."

"Woah! Wait - How is it settled! I didn't agree. I'm...I'm thinking it over." And Dean couldn't believe it, but he was.

Castiel made an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes, as if he didn't understand the hold up. He looked at Dean with raised eyebrows.

"Let me get this straight, you want to..." Dean gestured in front of himself, not able to get the words out.

"Fornicate."

Dean stared, slack jawed. "You've gotten pretty bold for being human for like, a day." Cas didn't say anything. Dean continued to stare at him, "You're asking me to take your virginity?"

"Yes." Again, another solid and unwavering response.

When Dean didn't give a definite answer but in stead glanced around for several minutes, Castiel urged, "Dean-" but that's as far as his nagging got. Dean threw up a hand to halt his speaking. It was obvious to Castiel that Dean was thinking _very_ hard. Maybe it was tha alcohol, but for some reason it made Castiel want to laugh.

Dean took a deep breath. "Ok - I can't believe I'm about to do this," he muttered. He tipped the bottle back, taking several loud gulps. He shook his head and cleared his throat loudly. Then Dean turned to Cas and demanded, "Close your eyes."

"What? Why?"

"I can't do this if you're staring at me." Cas did not close his eyes. "You trust me to de-flower you on your death-bed, but not enough to close your eyes? Just do it."

Castiel saw the logic in Dean's argument and closed his eyes.

Dean stared at Castiel, his heart thumping in his throat. He thought he must've lost his damn mind to even be considering this. But hey, he could just give this a try, just once, for Cas' sake, and if it was just too friggin' weird then they never had to touch or talk about it ever again.

Castiel sat there with his eyes closed for what felt like a very long time. Then he felt Dean come close, and he felt soft lips against his own. His eyes opened automatically and he stared at Dean's face...which was on _his_ face... His heart skipped a beat, he didn't breathe.

When Dean pulled away he opened his eyes, pulling a surprised and then irritated expression when he found Cas staring back at him. "Dude, I said to close your eyes!"

"I...I did," was all Cas could get out. He was staring at Dean like he'd never actually seen him before, taking a new notice to every detail of his face. "I think I was right to assume it is you I would like to have sex with before I die."

"Wow..." Again Castiel's bluntness left Dean somewhat speechless. "Cas. I'm, uh, flattered..." he bumbled, "But...I really don't think-"

"I wouldn't want to go to some Den of Iniquity knowing it might be the last thing I do. You are the person I trust the most. You are the person who knows me." His voice stayed steady, sensible. "Friendship is love, in a way. So I suppose you are someone I love. And if possible, I think that's how I would like it to be."

Dean couldn't respond right away. He had to think about that. In a strange way, it all made perfect sense. Cas made a good point. It wouldn't feel right now, to leave him with some whore for an hour and be done with it. It should be someone he knew, someone he trusted, someone who wouldn't ask him to leave the money on the nightstand and get the fuck out. It _should_ be him.

But Dean just couldn't let things be that easy. He never could. The whole idea turned his heart upside down in his chest - this was _Cas_. He was a _dude_. And he was..._Cas_. It was too weird.

"I don't...Look man, I get it. But I just don't think I can do...that."

Castiel's face showed nothing, despite the regret that was turning his stomach. He felt that being sexual with Dean might be surprisingly easy, might fit surprisingly well into their relationship. But he also knew that it was a longshot.

He nodded, "Understood."

As Castiel slid off the Impala and walked away Dean felt like a total jerk. Did he just deny his dying friend his final wish? Was his dying friend's final wish to have sex with him? _Poor Cas - he doesn't know any better than to have low standards_, Dean thought.

Later that evening Dean was thinking of approaching Castiel for some non-sex-related reason, for the sake of making himself feel better. He was about to ask the angel about the book he was frowning into when suddenly Castiel took in a sharp breath, wincing in pain, grabbing his chest.

Dean was at his side immediately, "Cas? Cas, you ok?"

But he didn't answer. Castiel rose on shaky legs and stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, clutching his chest, Dean trying to help him along but just doubling the amount of clumsiness in the equation. Cas practically collapsed onto the bathroom floor, barely making it to the toilet before heaving, his whole body shaking.

When Cas heaved Dean's heart nearly stopped -

"Sam!," Dean screamed through the house, slipping into panic. "Sam!" he yelled again when his brother didn't instantly appear.

The sound of quick, heavy footsteps could be heard downstairs, and Dean thanked God when he could feel them coming up the stairs, coming closer. Sam swung into the doorway, staring down at Cas bent over the toilet, his lips and teeth almost black with the dark blood staining them.

"He's throwing up blood," Dean looked at his brother with pleading eyes.

"It's fine..." Castiel bubbled out, his voice thick with blood.

"Sam," Dean urged, begging for some help or explanation that he knew poor Sam couldn't give.

An hour later Dean was leaning exhausted against the bathroom wall as Cas washed his face with cold water. Cas felt bad that he'd taken up all of everyone's time all day - he was embarrassed to feel like a burden on people who usually had much better things to do than worry about him, and help him heave over a toilet.

"I'm sorry, for the inconvenience," Castiel said.

And it broke Dean's heart to hear the honesty in those words. "You're not _inconvenient_, Cas."

"Nevertheless, it is extremely frustrating to feel...helpless. I appreciate your assistance."

Dean nodded.

Castiel was exhausted from this whole day. The courage he'd gained from knowing that he was dying and this was literally his last chance had completely faded. He regretted his decision to ask Dean for something so personal. Not because he didn't trust him, just because the thought of it was so overwhelming right now. "You don't have to say anything, about earlier."

Dean looked up at Castiel's reflection in the bathroom mirror, as the angel had his back to him. Cas didn't return Dean's gaze, he looked down into the sink pretending to focus on his hands, pretending his heart wasn't pounding in his chest. "We can pretend I never said anything." When Dean didn't say anything, Castiel attempted a joke, "It was shock, I think," he laughed a little, and Dean noticed it made him look so human. "Rash decision-making out of sudden panic."

Dean blurted before he even realized, "Did you really want it to be me?"

_Yes_. "I don't know..." _Yes. yes. yes_. "Maybe. It's not - I don't...think of you...like that. I just can't imagine having any experience so...important, with anyone else." And that was the truth. Castiel hadn't spent sleepless nights dreaming of Dean in a romantic or sexual nature or anything. He wasn't _trying_ to eye-sex him every time he stared the way he did. There was just something about the way they were kindred spirits that made it bizarrely impossible for him to fathom making soul-changing personal advances with anyone else by his side.

He was comfortable being _that way_ with Dean because he trusted him, because he knew he would be _un_comfortable with anyone else.

And all of a sudden, in the dimly lit bathroom at Bobby's house, Dean found himself oddly comfortable with it as well. There wasn't anything heart-wrenchingly romantic in the way it felt. It was just something he owed his friend. And it wasn't strictly like doing him a favor - it wasn't like he wanted to 'do him a solid'. It was Dean's basic, label-less love for Cas that allowed him decide to give him something he truly wanted him to have before he...

Before he...

Dean couldn't bear to think it.

Somewhere inside Dean knew how Castiel felt about humanity, how he longed to understand it, to be part of it. And somewhere inside he knew that, in part, Castiel had done this for him. He couldn't explain it, he just felt it subconsciously. Somehow he knew he'd had a lot to do with Cas falling. And knowing that, feeling that to his core, he couldn't stand to let time run out before Cas had felt everything he wanted to feel. It just wasn't fair, that someone who truly appreciated all that a human life had to give may not have the time to experience it.

Dean was on the verge of opening his mouth and letting all this truth spill out, he felt it bubbling up. But when he looked up, and Cas was standing right in front of him, he opened his mouth and... nothing came out.

"Goodnight Dean," Cas said, giving him and affectionate look and turning away. He was gone down the hall before Dean could even think to say anything back.

Laying there on the cot Castiel had slept on the night before, smelling his scent on the pillow, Dean couldn't sleep. Sam was asleep on the couch across the room, thankfully dead to the world enough not to notice Dean's tossing and turning. His mind was racing and he knew it wouldn't let up until he'd made a decision. He'd given Castiel a weak 'no' to his proposition because he just wasn't sure. And while every fiber of his being told him, _Dean Winchester doesn't fondle dudes and does not play grab-ass with his friends!_, there was something that went much deeper than his ego that told him to get over himself. After seeing Cas like that tonight, bleeding, coughing, weak, and then apologetic about it...Dean's whole outlook had been altered. It struck a chord deep within him, bringing the sharp reality of Cas' mortality to the forefront.

All of the sudden, lying there in the dark at God knows what hour of the night, Dean just couldn't take it anymore.

He clamored off the cot and up the stairs into the spare room where Cas was fast asleep. He closed the door quietly behind him and padded over to the bed, sitting on the edge. He reached out and laid a hand gently on Cas' shoulder, ever-mindful of his injured back, and shook him lightly. He whispered his name until Castiel rolled toward him.

"Dean?" he asked, his voice so low from sleep it was barely a word at all.

"I'll do it." The words rushed out, certain.

Castiel squinted up at him, processing. He sat up slowly, sorely, Dean putting a hand behind him protectively for support. Cas looked at Dean's face, taking in his wide-awake eyes, the almost strung-out look. He shook his head, "No, Dean, it's alright. I should not have asked-"

"Cas," something about Dean's tone made Cas shut up and listen, "I'll do it."

Castiel stared into his eyes as if to warn him not to lie, to not joke with him.

Seeing the doubt, Dean leaned in slowly, his breath trembling past his lips, and he kissed Castiel.

An hour or so later, with a few simple kisses between himself and Castiel having sealed the deal, Dean walked back downstairs and climbed back onto the cot. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

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><p><strong>Watch out people - there is fornication on the horizon! Ready yourselves!<strong>

**Ok - sorry. I'll calm down now.**


	6. Touch Too Much Part I

**Ok, fair warning, if you don't like man-sex, or you're not into the Destiel thing... A) how did you make it this far into this story? and B) avert your eyes. Or be forever scarred mentally. Get's a little, shall we say, **_**adult**_** from here on out. And by "a little", I mean downright sexual. Just to be clear.**

**K, Have fun kids.**

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><p>Chapter Six<p>

"Touch Too Much"

Part I

Castiel's lungs had stayed thankfully fluid-free over the next week. The soreness of the Fall was fading to a dull ache that he was slowly becoming able to ignore. The gruesome bruise on his back had faded from a terrifying black and purple, to green and brown. Bobby had teased him that he looked like was in Army fatigues. For a man who was dying, Castiel's symptoms were few and far between, and much to Sam and Bobby's chagrin, appeared to be medically random.

Occasionally Cas would faint. He wasn't sure _why_ it happened; there didn't seem to be a correlation between his passing out and standing up too fast, or over-exerting himself. It would just happen out of the blue, sometimes mid-sentence. He would look confused for a moment, and then his legs would buckle beneath him and he'd slump to the floor. The first time it happened, they'd thought that was it, he was dying right then and there. But with Dean leaning over him, yelling in his face and shaking him hard by the lapels, Castiel had woken up sleepy, confused, irritated by Dean's volume, but otherwise unharmed.

Then there were the nosebleeds. They were just as random, and would go on far too long for Bobby's liking. "It should've stopped by now," he'd say every time, pressing a new towel to Castiel's upward-leaned face and throwing the blood soaked one into the sink.

Then there was the shaking. Castiel would tremble sometimes, his hands especially. He always tried to hide it, especially from Dean. The poor man was losing years off his life with the stress of Castiel's...condition. And Cas couldn't stand to know he was putting him through some awful slow-motion trauma. So he shoved his hands in his pockets to keep Dean from seeing. And when his whole body would shake and he simply couldn't hide it, he would excuse himself, go sit on the edge of the tub and try to stop what he couldn't control. The shaking made him sore, his muscles would tense up so much from it, and from desperately trying to stop it. So as he sat there in the bathroom, trying to keep it together, he was relieved that Dean wouldn't experience seeing him go through this, wincing at every muscle twitch.

Little did he know, that when he disappeared in there for long stretches of time, Dean was always right outside the bathroom door, his heart breaking over the sound of Cas attempting to set a normal rhythm to his breathing and his teeth chattering.

Dean and Castiel had formulated a secret contingency plan to get _the task_ done. They had essentially come to an arrangement. Neither wanted Sam or Bobby to know what they were doing while they were...doing it. That would make it impossible. It would be too awkward. And honestly, it felt kind of like a secret deathbed pact between them - something for them and only them. A final secret.

The first thing they realized, is that with all four of them living under Bobby's roof, there was no way it was going to happen there. They had to get away, together, and have it seem like a totally normal, relaxed, and not at all suspicious outing. It was Dean who decided to make a trip out of it. There was a bigger city two counties over that would provide some experiences worth remembering that Bobby's small hometown couldn't - bars, very up-to-date movie theatres, the occasional music festival...

Cas didn't care about any of that. But he kept that to himself.

All Dean said was that he was going to take Cas into town for a day, let him live a little, and Sam and Bobby had nodded in agreement. Sam was happy to let his brother and the former angel go hang out on their own, always sympathetic to the fact that they might not have that much time left to just be friends. And Bobby, who are we kidding, Bobby wasn't gonna go putz around town with those two!

It was that easy. Just, "I think I'm gonna take Cas into town Thursday. See if I can't get him into some trouble." And it was settled. The short time between the decision being made, and Thursday actually rolling around felt torturously slow.

The anticipation made Dean and Cas antsy.

The car ride out of town was quiet and when their hands almost touched as they both reached for the radio, they jerked away from each other like they were afraid to get cooties. They both pulled away quickly, refusing to look at each other and silently thinking the exact same thing: _How are we gonna do this if we can't even touch each other at all?_

That's how it was all day - sexsexsexsexsex. On the brain. The anticipation of knowing it was supposed to happen was making them both outrageous. They were behaving strangely toward each other and doing so in public. They couldn't pay proper attention to anything and kept staring around like they thought everyone knew. It made them look very suspicious indeed. They did wander around town for awhile before it became painfully obvious neither of them gave a crap about anything it had to offer. They were at least trying to keep up appearances, pretending like they'd made this trip for any other reason than _just_ to have some secret last-chance sex. But by the late afternoon their nerves were shot, and they gave up pretenses.

They checked into a motel.

Basically the first one they saw. Even as they were getting the key at the front desk, both men's hearts were beating hard.

They keyed into the room and stood in the doorway, both of them finding its familiarity somewhat comforting. Highway motels - you seen one, you seen them all. It wasn't glamourous, but somehow it felt right. Comfortable.

The room was a dark yellow, possibly just from decades of dust and fading, with faded swirling brown designs in the wallpaper - nautical stars it looked like to Castiel. The curtains, small couch, and bedspread were all a deep, lack-luster blue. The room's colors looked worn and tired as its patrons must have felt to have bothered to stop there.

Dean coughed awkwardly, clearing his throat. Castiel's hands were shoved deep into his jeans pockets. But he had a sneaking suspicion there was a different reason they were shaking today. They hung around silently for a moment, Dean making rounds about the room, looking in cabinets and out windows and putting his gun and something else Cas didn't see into the nightstand drawer. He rubbed his hand over his face and Cas could tell he was off his usual too-cool-for-school game.

"So, um, how do you want to do this?" he let out suddenly. The desperate attempt to sound nonchalant only made it more awkward. Dean had been agonizing over the logistics of man on man action all day and it had him an over-thought mess. He had only theoretical ideas of what he'd signed up for. All he knew was that in the end he would go through with it, whatever it was. And knowing that made him nervous. Apparently, there really wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Cas.

"I was kind of hoping you would...lead the way." Castiel's voice came out low, as he also tried to feign calmness. After a moment he admitted, "I don't know where to start."

Dean nodded, trying to take a logical step by step approach to this, "Ok. Let's start with what you have and haven't done."

Castiel blushed. "Dean, you know what I haven't done. That's why we're here."

"Not _anything_ though? I mean, how much should I walk you through this? What do you...know?"

Castiel glanced around, embarrassed, looking anywhere but Dean's eyes.

"Ok," Dean said resolved. "We have a butt-load of firsts to get out of the way."

"Firsts?"

"Yeah. Milestones. Like, your first kiss. First full on make-out. First hickey," Castiel tilted his head, "we'll get to that I guess. Um...what else? First blowjob!" Dean had said excitedly before actually thinking it through. His jaw snapped shut as he realized his words, but Castiel was simply listening intently. "And then...Your first time, I guess. I mean it's not really a lot to do in one day, technically. It's just a lot if it's your first time doing any of it."

Castiel nodded, obviously thinking this all over very hard. His brows were knit tightly and he stared at nothing in particular, but his focus was intense.

"You still with me?" Dean asked gently.

Cas broke out of his thoughts and smiled at him. They laughed quietly. "Dean, thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he joked. And Castiel smiled at him, a glint of mischief in his eye. Their eyes were locked, and there was a need to say something, anything, if just for the sake of breaking tension. But both of their minds went blank.

Dean had a sudden surge of courage, he told himself he could do this.

"Take off your coat," Dean offered, pulling off his own and chucking it across the room unceremoniously. Castiel was a bit more graceful, removing his jacket and lightly tossing it folded over the arm of the couch. He watched Dean assess the room, calculating something in his mind. "Come on," Dean said, moving toward the bed. He kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged on the bed, Castiel following his lead and doing the same. Dean motioned for him to sit across from him and he did. Dean inched closer once Castiel was settled, so that their knees touched they were so close. They were both settled now, so there were no more preliminaries. They just stared at each other a moment before Dean broke the gaze, looking down at his hands, laughing. Castiel couldn't help but smile. "I'm actually kind of nervous," Dean said, like he couldn't believe it. When he looked up and saw the honest smile on Castiel's face, he remembered why he wanted to do this. It was kind of a beautiful thing to behold and it felt almost unplanned when he slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to his.

Their kisses were innocent and sweet and it went on like that for awhile, with no other contact between them, before Dean pulled away just far enough to say, "Kiss - check."

"What?" Cas asked, not understanding.

"'Check.' Check it off the list of things to do." Dean pantomimed doing so, "First kiss - _Check_."

Cas smiled, thinking that Dean was a curious man, even now after all this time. "Technically we'd already done that."

Dean rolled his eyes.

As their lips met again and smiled into each other both men thought, _this is gonna work_.

Dean parted his lips and waited for Cas to do the same; it didn't take long, and the novice smiled as their tongues played, not sure who should be dominant and liking the playful battle between them. They explored each other's mouths and every once and awhile Dean would suck Cas' bottom lip, making the less experienced man forget completely what he was doing. Dean pulled a breath away, liking how Castiel's lips chased his, and he said, "Make-out - check."

Cas pantomimed the check, showing Dean he got it. Dean brought his hand to the back of Castiel's head and pulled him in, attacking his mouth in a suddenly aggressive and passionate kiss. Castiel let Dean invade his mouth, besides he was distracted by the feel of the hand in his hair, the other coming up to brush against his neck and side. Dean's weight shifted, and Castiel found himself being pushed onto his back. His arms were floating awkwardly beside Dean, not touching him, as he lay back against the bed with Dean settling carefully above him. Not breaking their kiss, Dean reached back and placed Castiel's hands on his body, pulling his arms around him. It was all the encouragement Cas needed. As soon as his hands touched Dean he was done being bashful - he traced them up and down his back, and up into his hair and came to cup his face as he skillfully made Castiel's lips kiss-swollen and his breathing heavy.

Castiel could feel his body melting into Dean's, shaping to him, longing to be closer, to be fit together. Dean could feel it too. He pulled away, leaning on his elbows and smiling down at Castiel. "_Serious_ make-out - I'd say that's a check. Don't you think?"

"Not if 'check' means we're gonna stop," Castiel said sincerely.

Dean chuckled down at him, kissing his lips quickly. "This is just the start, Cas."

"Good. Show me what a hickey is."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the man below him, causing Castiel to blush, but nevertheless smile back. "You asked for it," Dean warned. He brought his lips to Castiel's neck, feeling him instinctively bare his throat more for him. Dean kissed a trail down Cas' neck and throat, stopping at the base where he knew from Cas' shudder that he would like this feeling. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, sucking harder when he felt Cas' hands come up to hold his head there and comb through his hair.

When he was sure he left his mark, he left a few light kisses there and then pulled away, far enough so that he could see Castiel's flushed face and watched as he brought his fingers to the area.

"You'll have a bruise," Dean informed. "That's a hickey."

Castiel smiled. "Do it again."

He did. Twice. The last time he pulled the neckline of Castiel's shirt down so he could get to his collarbone and the hollow at the base of his throat, something which the death-grip the former angel had in his hair and t-shirt told Dean that Castiel liked very much. Dean was careful to leave his marks low enough on his neck and down on his collarbone so they wouldn't be blatantly obvious to everyone who saw him.

Dean pushed Cas' shirt up, exposing his abdomen and he trailed his lips up the exposed skin, pressing his palms flat against Cas' chest. "Do you wanna take this off?" he asked, his lips still to Castiel's skin. Cas sat up abruptly and pulled the shirt off so fast Dean had to laugh.

There was a lot of curious touching, heavy-petting and lips ad tongues learning each other. Dean could feel Castiel hard in his jeans, and there was something about the way the former angel instinctively rolled his hips up against him that he liked a lot.

It wasn't long before Cas' breathing got faster and his hands wandered all over Dean's back, not seeming to be able to still. Suddenly Castiel's body jerked. The sound that he made, combined with the sudden intake of breath and the way his eyes squeezed shut and his fists clenched in Dean's shirt left no question as to what was happening. There was no stopping it. So Dean just helped it along. He rubbed his hand gentle but strong over Castiel's pants, leaving light kisses and swipes of his tongue on his chest and he watched the man come, maybe for the first time.

It was wave after was of a physical release that was so satisfying Castiel didn't want it to end. He could feel it shooting sparks through his whole body.

When he was done he laid back staring at the ceiling, his muscles surprisingly stiff. His hands were still clenched in Dean's shirt and Dean could feel he was tense. He moved slowly back up over him, running his hands over the man's chest and arms and up into his hair. He kissed Cas' neck and lips again and again, a little concerned when he didn't really kiss him back. "You ok?" he asked quietly.

Cas licked his lips and nodded.

"You look like you're freakin' out on me man," he only half-joked. He gave a truly charming smile.

"I'm ok," Cas said, and Dean could feel him finally starting to relax. "I'll be ok."

"That feel good?"

Cas nodded.

"Good. I'm glad. Although, generally you try and wait until the pants are _off_," he teased. Castiel turned a surprising shade of scarlet, horribly embarrassed. But Dean didn't want him to feel bad about it; he kissed his lips deeply to make amends. When he felt Castiel giving his all to that kiss, he knew the joke was forgotten or forgiven. He pulled away and smiled at the flushed and exhausted man beneath him.

"Let's take a break." Castiel looked embarrassed again, like this halt in their activities was his fault. And Dean could see that in his face, so he tried to boost his confidence, "You got me all worked up and now I'm hungry. Dinner. Then we'll come right back here. Besides, we're gonna need all our strength if we're gonna make a go at knocking out the rest of those firsts."

This tactic seemed to work; Cas smiled at him and sat up willingly. He shifted uncomfortably. Dean understood the discomfort, "Go change your boxers, sex-kitten." He playfully shoved Cas off the bed and watched him disappear into the bathroom.

Dean took a deep breath. He didn't stand, instead just looked down at his jeans to assess how obvious his hard-on was. He breathed deep again - he was gonna need a minute...


	7. Touch Too Much Part II

**Thanks so much for the reviews!**

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><p>Chapter Seven<p>

"Touch Too Much"

Part II

At dinner things were weird.

There was a good twenty minutes where they couldn't talk. It was like going out into the real world made the reality of what they'd just been doing seem all that much weirder. What kind of fucked up _Bucket List/Pretty Woman_ arrangement did they have going here? Could people tell? Was it palpable? It felt so to them.

Castiel could literally feel the constant shifting in Dean's mood from across the table. Dean had been twirling his fork, staking a piece of food on his plate over and over, staring down at it with hard eyes for twenty minutes now. Castiel was watching him closely. He was starting to feel like maybe he'd made a mistake by asking for this, by wanting this in the first place; he was starting to worry that Dean was regretting it. "You look mad," he stated quietly, looking away so he wouldn't have to meet Dean's eyes.

"Yeah," Dean grumbled.

Castiel's shoulders fell almost imperceptibly. "At me?"

Dean's eyes shot to Castiel's, "No. Why would you think that?"

"But you _are_ _mad_?" he asked, not answering the question.

Dean got that shifty-eyed look he does when there's something heavy on his mind he's uncomfortable talking about.

"Tell me," Cas demanded, sounding like his old self.

Dean sighed, pretending to be irritated he had to say anything. He didn't look at Cas as he said, "It's not fair, that you're...you know." He couldn't say _dying_. "I want you to stay. I think...I think you're my best friend."

"But Sam-"

"Sam and Bobby are family. Sam - he's my little brother. He's been my everything all my life, you know? We're blood. You and me, we're just..."

"Friends?"

"I don't think I've ever just had a friend. Not like what I have with you. And I can't stop thinking that there's nothing I can do to save you-" Dean stopped abruptly when he looked up and saw an unexpected expression on Castiel's face - "What the Hell are you grinning at?"

Castiel shook his head and stared down into his plate, laughing quietly to himself. "You, Dean Winchester. Only you."

Dean's brow furrowed in combined confusion and irritation. There he was spilling his guts and this guy was having a hoot. "Laugh it up, jackass," he muttered to himself.

After a pause, Dean dared a glance at Cas again. He was still smiling like a jerk.

"You make me very happy," Castiel said taking a bite of his food, continuing to smile down into his plate. There was a quiet moment where Dean let that sink in, just watching this once all-powerful being sitting across from him in a diner booth. Cas added in that tone, as if it should go without saying, "You are my best friend as well. Obviously."

When they got back to the motel, it was a little difficult for Dean to get started up again. He was too in his own head. He felt awkward and like he had something to prove, but didn't know how to go about it. Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to have had the complete opposite transformation. As soon as the motel door had closed behind them he was in Dean's face, invading his personal space with a smirk, leaving quick pecks on his lips and neck. He let his hands go wherever felt natural - Dean's arms and shoulders, his back and even up into his hair. And as Cas' kisses backed Dean up into the door as he pressed into him.

Suddenly Dean couldn't handle it. He pulled away abruptly, looking at Cas with vexation. "How are you so comfortable right now?" he said, almost angry.

Cas smiled, the act coming more and more easily every time. "I want this. I no longer see any reason why I shouldn't. I suppose," he chuckled to himself, "it's been a long time coming. Thousands and thousands of years, actually."

"Right," Dean looked away, "No pressure."

"I have no expectations."

"_Sure_," Dean said sarcastically.

"I'm just happy to be here." And that was the truth. It was obvious. "Take off your shirt," he demanded suddenly. Dean was a little taken aback, he raised his eyebrows at Cas. But Cas only looked at him expectantly. Dean did as he was told, throwing the shirt somewhere off to the side and standing there in front of his best friend shirtless with the weight of this whole situation sitting heavily on his now bare shoulders.

"Well..." he started awkwardly, "this feels totally normal. Not weird at all."

The longer Cas was human, the more he understood how Dean used sarcasm as a buffer between himself and any kind of vulnerability. It was funny in a way, how he'd managed to displace this man from his comfort zone so easily. It almost made him laugh, and Dean didn't miss that. The Hunter rolled his eyes at Castiel's obvious amusement.

"As long as you tip me well you can laugh all you want."

Castiel didn't understand that statement any more than to know it was another joke. He smiled at the Hunter while he pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it over with Dean's. He looked at Dean's face, taking note of how desperately the hunter tried _not_ to look at his body. Cas pressed his palm flat to Dean's chest, right over his heart. He looked at his pale skin on Dean's, liking the contrast to his perpetual tan. He brought his other hand up and flattened that to his chest as well, feeling how warm and solid the flesh was beneath his fingers. He slid his hands up over his collarbones, and up over the round of his shoulders to the crook of his neck. Castiel dipped his thumb into the hollow at the base of Dean's neck. When he glanced up at Dean's face he saw his eyes were closed, so he didn't move again until Dean opened them. He trailed his fingertips lightly down his abdomen, watching Dean's skin twitch under his touch. His hands went deftly to the belt and undid the buckle. He pulled the belt free from the loops and dropped it over by their shirts.

"This is what you do with women?" Castiel asked curiously, seemingly not nervous at all - unlike Dean, who nodded, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists. Castiel reached his hand up slowly to Dean's face, rubbing a curious touch along the line of that clenched jaw. Feeling Dean relax under that touch made Cas feel powerful, like he still had some magic in those fingers. He let them trail down Dean's neck and arms until they reached his hands. Castiel let his fingers pause, feather-light on Dean's knuckles. He felt Dean's hands slowly let go of their tension, opening up, and Castiel slipped his fingers between Dean's curiously. Both men stood there, looking down at their interlaced fingers, their minds racing. Castiel was overjoyed to feel the things he did, curious and experimental in his touch. But Dean's heart was breaking even as he saw the former angel smile - everything reminded him why they were here, why they'd been pushed to do this. Cas was going to be gone. It tainted every good feeling Dean had in a sudden overwhelming wave.

Castiel brought their hands up to eye level, his blue eyes sparkling as he laid their palms together, watching the movement that went with this simplest of sensations. He looked past those hands to Dean's face, wanting to see if he was feeling this as well, but his smile faded when he saw those green eyes glassy.

One streak of water ran down Dean's cheek and he hastily brought the back of his hand to his face wipe it, trying to turn away, but Cas caught his wrist and stopped him. Cas brought his fingers to the trail of the tear, feeling it, his head tilted to the side. Dean watched him closely, barely breathing. Castiel wiped the trail away with his thumb, then he leaned in and kissed the area, his lips soft on Dean's cheek. As he pulled away and their eyes met - within Dean some sort of levee broke. He pulled Cas to him roughly, kissing him like they really might never see each other again.

This was a new experience, the one that Cas had wanted from the start - this kiss was not slow and sensual and experimental as their others had been. It was raw passion. That's what he'd always wanted to feel.

And it didn't disappoint.

Dean pushed Cas to the bed and they fell onto it, kissing almost violently. He grabbed Cas' thigh and hitched his leg up over his hip, leaning into him. Cas responded by bringing both legs up to wrap around him, holding him close.

Dean was invading Cas' mouth, possessing him and gripping at him tightly. He rolled over onto his back, pulling Cas on top of him. Suddenly Cas could feel the hard line of Dean against his thigh and he instinctually rubbed against it, liking how Dean's breath caught in his throat. Cas' hands gripped into the sheets on either side of Dean as he ground his hips down into Dean's, living for every moment that the man's hips rose to meet him. Until suddenly Dean's hands gripped Cas hips in a steel vice-like hold, stilling them. "Woah, woah - wait..." he barely gasped out. Cas took in the sight of his face, flushed, eyes closed, taking some very deep very strained breaths as he tried to fight his body's desire to let go.

Seeing Dean about to be undone was too much for Cas, he wanted that so badly he didn't really care how hard Dean was working to keep it together. He leaned down, kissing his chest, running his hands all over him.

Dean moved his hands from Cas' hips to his wandering hands to stop them, but when he did Cas only began to grind against him again. Dean's hands flew immediately back to Cas' hips, having to hold him still, on the verge. "Damn, Cas-" he growled out. "You need to give me a minute."

"I want to see it," Cas said, his voice pure lust. "I want to see you come."

At that Dean stared into Cas' eyes, his green irises almost eclipsed by blown-out pupils. Then suddenly he used all his strength to flip Castiel over and pin him down, lying on top of him. He slid his knee roughly between Cas' thighs, spreading them, then settling between them as he kissed down the man's neck and chest. He undid the belt and nearly ripped it from the beltloops, throwing it out of sight. He undid the button and zipped open the jeans, and it was Castiel's turn to breath hard as Dean pushed them down over his hips. "Lift," Dean said, and Castiel lifted his hips off the bed allowing Dean to pull down the jeans and underwear. When he did, Castiel's cock sprang free and Dean wrapped a hand around its base. Cas trailed a shaking hand up and down Dean's arm as Dean pumped a few times, but Cas was ready to blow and Dean didn't want that - not yet. So he stopped.

Dean got off the bed and pulled Cas' remaining clothes all the way off, dropping them at his feet. Then he slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his own, not taking his eyes off of Cas, who couldn't take his eyes off of what Dean's hands were doing. Dean kicked off his jeans and climbed back on top of Castiel, who could only look down at Dean's cock in both fascination and utter wantonness. He reached down tentatively, checking Dean's eyes to make sure it was ok, and he wrapped his hand around it.

"It's hot," he whispered, "so hard..."

Dean was pretty sure Cas didn't _mean_ to talk dirty, but he was doing it all kinds of right anyway and Dean's head dropped to Castiel's shoulder as he groaned. He reached past him to the nightstand to get what he'd stashed there earlier. Castiel watched as Dean slicked his fingers and reached down.

It was cold at first, and he flinched. Dean looked at him to make sure he was alright and he was, he wanted this. Dean watched Castiel's face as he pushed one finger in, seeing that mix of sensations. He moved slowly as he stretched him, wanting to be careful, wanting this to be all good for him; he wasn't sure how long, how much, they were supposed to do this because he'd never done it before, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt him. But by the time Cas was taking three fingers like a champ, Dean was getting impatient. He withdrew his fingers, seeing Castiel wince at the sudden loss, and rubbed his hand over his own cock, getting it slick. He noticed that as he did this, Cas' cock twitched, clearly he saw something he liked. Kinky angel...figures. Smirking at this, Dean leaned up over Cas, kissing up his neck to his lips. Castiel adjusted, getting comfortable and watched Dean like he was afraid to miss a single moment as the Hunter reached down and positioned himself.

"You sure?" Dean rasped out.

Cas huffed, exasperated, "You're asking me _now_?"

"Hey," Dean retorted, too sincerely for it not to be funny, "I'm trying to be a gentleman!"

Cas gripped tight at the hair on the back of Dean's head, "Don't." He smirked and it was pure mischief. He pulled Dean down, lips and tongues touching soft and wet and desperate.

Dean pushed into him, agonizingly slow, groaning into Cas' mouth and swallowing the man's stifled moan as the tight warmth invited him in. He sank in to the hilt, and Cas was grabbing at his back, leaving bruises. Dean looked down at Cas' face - his eyes squeezed shut, biting his lip. Dean ran a hand over the side of his face softly, and up into his hair. Cas slowly adjusted, and as he did he relaxed some, and the hand Dean threaded through his hair helped to sooth him. He opened those big blue eyes to see Dean looking down at him.

Castiel gave a quick groan and whispered, "So big..."

Dean couldn't even help but laugh and groan simultaneously - at least it was a very flattering cliche. His head dropped to Castiel's chest, "You don't even know how good you are at this," he laughed into his skin. The comment made Cas feel good despite not having any idea what Dean was talking about.

Dean moved slowly within Castiel, pulling out and then pushing back in and it only took a few times for him to figure out which angle was best for Cas, how to hit his spot. And when he did, the look on the former angel's face was intoxicating - he was surprised at first and then very, very pleased. It was all Dean needed to get him going, giving everything to every thrust.

Castiel finally understood the human obsession with sex; _finally_, it all made sense. And every time Dean pressed into him it felt better and better, and he could feel something building inside him, burning him up from the inside out and telling him he needed Dean closer, deeper. Something about moving together, sweating and breathing and making sounds they didn't want hold in made him feel more alive than he ever had.

It didn't take long for either of them. Dean reached down to pump Castiel as he pushed into him harder and harder. Cas came first, calling Dean's name and grabbing hard and desperate at his ass. Dean followed immediately, and Castiel finally got to see what he'd been wanting to see. Watching Dean's face screw up with pleasure was something he hoped he would never forget - it was base, and violent, and honest and vulnerable...it was beautiful. He reached up and ran his hands through Dean's hair as he watched the hunter come and then quiet.

When Dean was spent he breathed hard against Cas' chest, his weight resting on his elbows as he laid above him. Dean slowly and carefully pulled out and laid beside Castiel, who now mostly had his breathing under control. Dean was still breathing hard as he said, "Sex - _check_."

They both lazily pantomimed the check, and the synchronization made them laugh.

Cas smiled at the exhaustion in Dean's voice, liking that he did that to him. "I think I understand now why people go crazy over this," Cas told him.

Dean chuckled, "Not half bad , is it?" Then he stopped laughing and leaned up on his elbow, "Was it? I mean, was it everything your virginal heart desired..."

He tried to make light of it, but Castiel could see the truth, that Dean wanted his approval. And he kind of liked that. "Much better than anything I could have imagined," he stated plainly. But he saw Dean glow with satisfaction as he lay back and Castiel smiled to himself.

They had intended to go out and do things, but both men were so tired not only from their _extracurriculars_ but from the emotional wreckage that had lead up to it that they'd simply fallen asleep. They were mentally exhausted and it felt nice to just pass out now that this was out of the way.

Dean awoke to find himself snuggled up to Castiel in a way that made him thoroughly embarrassed. Somehow in the night he had nuzzled into the crook of his neck, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest, a leg thrown over Cas' thigh. Dean was strangely comfortable though, and decided not to move right away. He thought about how Cas had a knack for facilitating his self-discovery; when Cas was around Dean was constantly learning knew things about himself that he never would have thought were true. Like this - he was usually the cuddle-ee, not the cuddle-er.

This is where it gets weird - the deed had been done. Castiel was not going to die a virgin.

So why were they still so eager to fool around?

They both knew that they should have been able to just do it once and then let it be. Go back to the platonic albeit unusual friendship they'd had for years. That was the plan.

But the plan was going totally off the rails.

Neither of them expected to wake up so comfortable with this, with each other, with the idea of doing this _again_. They'd had a perfectly legitimate excuse before - there was no way poor Cas could leave this world never having spent one night in the throws of dirty passion. No way. It was only right. ...Right? But that excuse was used up after last night's adventures. So what was their excuse now?

All of this was rampaging through Dean's mind even as his heartbeat and breathing elevated with the feeling of Cas' hand stroking him. He wasn't snapped out of his thoughts and one hundred percent into the present until he felt warm, wet lips. Dean's eyes shot open and his head shot forward as he looked down at Castiel on his knees between his thighs. His blue eyes turned upward to look at Dean as he took him into his mouth. "You don't have to..." Dean rasped, and was extremely relieved when Cas seemed to completely ignore him. For a beginner, he was doing a damn good job of it too. Cas was surprisingly sensual, sometimes a little aggressive, and Dean couldn't tear his eyes away. When he was about to come he gave fair warning, as was only right, and Cas did his best to swallow him down. He wiped his face with his sleeve and stood up between Dean's legs, watching him come down from his high. He was fast becoming addicted to that look on Dean's face and the intimacy these acts provided.

Both men deeply regretted having to leave this room ever, but they never would have admitted that to each other. They were thankfully able to behave as they always had, all semblance of awkwardness seemingly magically diminished. The ride home was comfortable and both men felt light of heart.

When they arrived back at Bobby's, to their knowledge they didn't seem to arouse any suspicion. It felt like yet another success.

It wasn't until later that something went wrong, when even as the sun went down the heat was sweltering, and Dean was drenched. He was just about done for the day with tuning up the Impala, and his brother came out and handed him a cold beer. Dean thanked him and pulled off his shirt to wipe off his face and neck.

Sam squinted at his brother, "Dude - Is that a hickey!"

Dean's hand sprang to his collarbone instinctively covering the mark, "What? No!" he denied.

"It is! So wait, you took Cas into town and promptly went and got _laid_? Did you hook up with some chick and leave him sitting there? Oh my God, did you get _him_ laid? It wasn't like...a two for one special was it...?"

"_What_? - Sam! Just shut up! You don't even know what you're talking about."

"Oh, _no_?..." Sam smiled mischievously, "Why don't I go ask him?"

"Don't!"

"Why not, Dean? What are you afraid he's gonna tell me?" he teased. "That you two shared a hooker? Honestly dude, that's just..." he made an over the top disgusted face.

"We did _not share a hooker_." Dean looked as though he was going to explode and Sam was all too amused at getting a rise out of him.

"Well you did something because you both came back happy and sexed -" Sam stopped suddenly, something dawning on him. The look on his brother's face only confirmed his suspicions - they'd both come back happy and sexed...remove the hooker from the equation. Dean was scarlet-red, refusing to look at Sam, and swallowing hard. "Oh..." was all Sam could say, having figured it out. He was stunned. Joking about Dean and Cas eye-sexing and having man-crushes on each other was one of his favorite pass-times, but only because he never thought there was even a remote possibility it would really happen. But apparently, it had.

Dean immediately pulled his shirt back on and started bustling around finding great purpose in putting things away.

"So you guys..." Sam started. "Huh."

"We are not talking about this. And if you say anything to Bobby..." Dean warned.

Sam put up his hands in surrender, showing he had no intention of doing so. "I'm kind of impressed."

"Sam..." Dean's tone was warning.

"I mean, it's actually kind of nice of you. Good that it happened, I mean."

"Sam! What did I just say!"

"Right, right - not talking about it." A smile crept across Sam's lips and he quickly hid it away. "I just have one question," he gave Dean his best, most sincere puppy eyes, "...were you the top or the bottom?" His face cracked into an awful smirk and Dean reached over and punched him hard in the shoulder, nothing playful about it.

"Ow! _Ow_!" Sam said shrinking away from the hits, not able to stop the laugh from escaping his lips despite the pain.

They were done talking about it after that. Dean felt almost like he would be able to explain to Sam why this needed to happen. But he knew he'd never be able to explain why he couldn't stop it from happening again. And again. And then one more time in the car on the way back... He didn't tell Sam about any of that.


	8. Personal Space

**Thanks again for the reviews guys! Sorry for the wait.**

**Ok, I realize that this chapter is just kind of a fluff chapter, but I liked it a lot so I put it in. This **_**is**_** going somewhere, I promise! Next chapter's coming really soon.**

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><p>Chapter 7<p>

"Personal Space"

Weeks went by with Dean and Cas falling into an easy routine. They would go to sleep separately, and one or the other would get up and sneak to the other's bed in the night. Most nights they only slept. _Most _nights. Some nights they actually worked up the courage to carpe the hell out of the diem and as a result there was a lot of rustling fabric and hushed heavy breathing. And every night as Dean was clutching Cas' hand in his and running hands over smooth skin and getting kissed like the world depended on it, he was convincing himself that it was only a heartfelt goodbye. Every morning when he woke up sated and comfortable and content with his arms around his best friend he told himself it was only because the angel deserved this; the poor thing was scheduled to die and he deserved some carnal pleasure and corporeal comfort before he was snatched away too soon. Every morning as he drank his coffee, Dean told himself that he wouldn't miss it. This was the traditional Winchester breakfast - black coffee and utter emotional denial.

Sam and Bobby pretended they didn't know. Sam pretended he didn't hear the floorboards creaking in the middle of the night as one man went to the other; he pretended not to hear the whispered gasps they couldn't hold in, or the sound of lips, and rhythm in the mattress. And Bobby pretended he didn't see Dean sometimes touch the back of his hand to Castiel's when he thought no one was looking. Sometimes running a knuckle up Castiel's arm or pressing to it the small of his back as if he had to be touching him, if only in the slightest, at all times. Bobby pretended he never went to _his_ scrapyard and accidentally saw them necking like teenagers pressed up against the Impala. For their part, Sam and Bobby were doing valiantly well.

It went on that way for about two weeks, and it was starting to feel comfortable. It was starting to feel like Cas' occasional freak medical concerns were just some harmless anomaly that would surge up for a moment then leave them be. With Cas being so stoic about it, the fatality of the whole thing was becoming easy to doubt. Dean could almost convince himself there was nothing wrong with Cas. He could almost ignore the terror of slipping open shirt buttons to find new bruises that seemed to appear from nowhere, staining Cas' skin purple and black and leaving him sore. He could almost pretend the nosebleeds were a geeky, allergy-related quirk, and the fainting spells were tease-worthy.

_Almost_.

But living in close quarters under the agonizing stress of constantly thinking today could be the day that Cas drops dead was wreaking havoc on the four men's nerves. Dean, in particular, was starting to suffer from a serious bad mood. Being a good friend and feeling it was his responsibility, he hadn't left Cas' side for more than an hour at a time. It was starting to make them both crazy. They wouldn't leave each other alone, and yet the stifling proximity was grating on their nerves. They should have been smart enough to just leave each other be for a day. One day. That would have fixed it. But Dean couldn't stand the thought that he could be gone for three hours and Cas might be cold on the floor by the time he got back. So he anchored to him suffocatingly close. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place and it was bound to come to a head any moment. Sam and Bobby could feel it, so they made themselves scarce. It was bad enough knowing that feeling of Dean being on the verge of some kind of emotional breakdown, but Castiel was just as bad if not worse because he didn't let _anything_ out. Sam knew his brother well enough to know that any minute there would be screaming and most likely punches thrown. But Castiel was a mystery - the frustration radiating off of him was palpable, but there was no way to know what an emotional explosion from the former angel would be like. Last time he'd been really pissed at Dean, he beat the crap out of him. Granted, he had superpowers then... But Sam and Bobby doubted that the lack of super-strength this time around would stop him from tackling Dean in a sudden rage.

So Sam and Bobby were suddenly finding things on opposite ends of the house to be fascinated in. If Dean and Cas were in the kitchen, Sam and Bobby suddenly needed to be in the basement.

And Dean and Castiel were no longer able to be polite about their frustration. They shot each other irritated glances whenever they were in each other's space. Which was always. When Dean made a stupid joke, Cas glared at him mirthlessly. When Cas was unable to grasp some element of humanity, Dean had no patience whatsoever.

They were outside in the too-damn-hot sun one afternoon when they just could keep it together anymore. "Hand me that crescent wrench right there," Dean asked, leaning under the hood. Castiel did not make any attempt to move toward said wrench. He simply ignored Dean, irritated that he'd already explained a thousand times that he didn't know anything about tools and had no idea what Dean was talking about. Dean seemed incapable of grasping that it didn't matter how many times he asked, Castiel didn't know what the hell he was asking for. And Cas was not going to explain it again.

"Hello?..." Dean asked, shooting an irritated look at Cas. But Cas intentionally ignored him.

Dean extracted himself from the car in a huff and headed to the tool bench himself, knocking into Cas very intentionally on the way.

Cas was immediately steaming. His hands balled into fists - Dean was generally infuriating, and now he was _instigating_?

Dean saw Castiel's seething glare and taunted, "What? You got a problem, princess?"He didn't know why but he _wanted_ to goad him, he wanted a fight.

"You ought to watch how you speak to me, Dean," he warned, his voice deep - very _Castiel, Angel of the Lord_.

"Or what? You'll faint on me?" Dean mocked.

Castiel was dealing with the ramifications of being human, and weakness was a major blow to his ego. He hated that Dean could just mock him openly and there was nothing to be afraid of. He had been mighty, damn it! It was making him hot under the collar, he wanted so badly to lay something, some_one_ to waste.

Dean knocked into him again, on his way back to the car. He couldn't help but turn around and see the effect of his goading - Cas' face was red, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists. "You don't want to get hit, then move your ass," Dean spat as though it was Cas' fault. Then as Cas shot him a venomous glare, Dean stood in front of the former angel and shoved him at the chest -

There was a moment of stillness, like being in the eye of a hurricane. It was all stormy blue locking on blazing green as both men's breath held as they faced off, standing still as marble.

Then, naturally, chaos ensued. It was a good old fashioned knock-down, drag-out, fist fight.

Dean was ignorant to think he'd have the upper-hand now that Cas would actually feel the punches; he figured Cas wouldn't know how to compensate for a level playing field. He was wrong. Dean had raw power, but Cas was quick and trained and thought his movements through. Turned out Castiel was still pretty badass as a mortal. Ultimately it ended with Dean slamming backward onto his back, into the dirt, Castiel towering over him with a bloody lip and victory in his stance. But just as Cas let his guard down and turned to walk away Dean swept the former angel's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. Cas dropped like a felled tree right beside Dean.

The two laid back, breathing hard, occasionally wincing and tit-for-tat nudging each other, shoving even though the fight was obviously over and they were on the ground. After awhile there was a silent truce and they just laid there staring up at the sky.

"Pirate ship," Dean said after a long silence.

"What?"

"The cloud, that one there," he said, pointing upward, "looks like a pirate ship."

Castiel's head tilted to the side as he squinted up at the amorphous shape, trying to see what Dean did. "Huh... I suppose it does."

At the sound of rustling and groaning beside him, Cas took his eyes away from the cloud-ship and looked at Dean, who was clumsily climbing to his feet. Castiel made no move to follow suit. He simply laid there and watched as Dean rolled his neck and patted the dust off of his clothes. Even when he was being an idiot, Dean was still something to behold.

The hunter turned toward Castiel and extended his hand down. Cas took it and Dean yanked him up standing. "I totally won that," Dean muttered dusting off Castiel's shirt for him. As close to an _I'm sorry_ as you'll get from Dean most days, Castiel knew.

"You cheated," he pointed out with no malice in his voice.

"Yeah, well...you're surprisingly scrappy." His tone was irritated but Dean couldn't completely cover the affection in his eyes, or the hint of smile Castiel could see there. "Didn't hurt you did I?" he asked, not meeting Castiel's eyes.

Cas snickered. He turned to walk away and snarked, "_Please_..." muttered under his breath.

Dean smiled at Cas' back, liking how the sarcasm sounded in Cas' voice. It was very Winchester. It was very...human.

That night Castiel snuck silently into the pitch-black spare room to climb into bed with Dean and sleep beside him. But the elder Winchester was awake, waiting. Dean yanked an unsuspecting Cas onto the bed with such force that Cas fell back onto the mattress disoriented, and Dean used that to pin him down. He gripped Cas' wrists tightly and pinned them over the former angel's head and used his weight to flatten him to the mattress. Cas simply looked up at him, his eyes completely trusting. Dean kissed away every bruise he may have left, and Cas returned the favor, doing the same. To Castiel, this was the whole point of becoming human - he felt more alive throwing punches and stealing kisses with Dean than he had in a hundred years before he'd fallen. Castiel could feel that in these stolen moments together Dean was giving him everything he had, and that made Cas feel special. It made him feel important and unique and like he could give everything in return.

As an angel Castiel was meant to love all of God's children equally. As a man, he found he couldn't.

He watched the rise and fall of Dean's body and memorized the shuddering in his arms and breath, the way he whispered his name, and the weight of his body over his own. Somewhere inside Castiel the echo of former Grace allowed him to sense that the hunter's soul was in every moment and every movement - it wasn't just sex. And it wasn't just friendship. They fell asleep tangled together. Dean couldn't see it, but Castiel was smiling as he drifted to sleep, rubbing his hand over Dean's hair.


	9. Divine Intervention

**Sorry, sorry, sorry this took forever!**

**Anyway, this is a heavy one - put your reading glasses on.**

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><p>Chapter 9<p>

"Divine Intervention"

He'd never say it, but going to sleep beside Castiel had been granting Dean's wish for peaceful, nightmare-lacking sleep without fail. Something about the comfort of having him beside him, knowing he was there, and knowing he didn't intend to get up and leave put Dean at ease. This led to well-rested, comfortable awakenings. He would breath deep and stretch and if Castiel's back was to him he would nuzzle his head into the man's back or hair - like a total girl. But he couldn't deny it was a nice way to wake up, and it was something he'd never had before. He'd been thankful for it every day they'd woken up together.

So when Dean awoke suddenly from the disorienting feeling of an increasing pressure on his arm, he immediately knew something was off. Before he could register what it was, it was starting to hurt. He opened his eyes, blinking them into focus as he felt something was wrong - Castiel was gripping him too tightly, his fingers locked around Dean's arm with bruising force. And he was pressing his face hard into Dean's chest. Everything registered slowly to Dean, as was still half asleep, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was quickly sobering him from the peace of his slumber. His voice barely rasped out, "Cas?"

But Castiel didn't move. His deathgrip remained on Dean's arm, the pain of it becoming sharper as Dean's consciousness revved up. That's when Dean noticed the sharp bursts of Cas' breath against his chest, and the harsh shaking of his body. His brain snapped to attention and he pried the former angel from him so he could get a good look at his face. He wasn't ready for what he saw.

Castiel was pale, paper white, dark circles under his eyes and cheekbones, making him look sunken and sick. His lips and teeth were stained dark red with blood - it was all over Dean's abdomen, down Cas' neck and chest. "Oh my God - shit, _shit_!" Dean didn't even bother to hide the utter panic. He rolled Cas onto his back and Cas looked like there was something he wanted to say - but all that came out were desperate staccato gasps, and a spattering of blood. Dean leaned over him, they stared into each others eyes both knowing there was so much that needed to be said. They always thought there'd be another chance, that they'd know it was coming, that they'd sack-up last minute and get it all out. This wasn't right, it wasn't fair, they'd had no warning.

Cas reached up and clutched Dean's hand in his, Dean's stomach turning even as he gripped Cas' hand tightly, because the feeling of the blood making their hands slick and seeing how it dyed them red made him feel sick. Castiel held firmly onto Dean, his jaw set tightly. Looking into Dean's eyes, he suddenly felt strangely resolved. When. This was Cas' last chance to show what he was made of. His last chance to exude grace and bravery. He'd known this was coming. He was shaking all day yesterday, he'd coughed up blood, he just couldn't bear to tell Dean. And now, here he was, a vice in his chest seeming to literally squeeze the life out of him while this beautiful man laid above him with panic in his eyes.

Castiel looked at Dean calmly, his face relaxing even as his chest puffed desperately in the instinctual struggle for air. He wanted this to happen like he had some control over it. He wanted to keep it together, for Dean's sake.

Dean looked down at Cas he could see the strength in his eyes; he could feel Castiel being strong, and he nodded at him, his eyes feeling suddenly hot. He fought against that - he fought everything back. He just held Cas' hand, kept his eyes with his own, and pretended to be strong too.

It was a few minutes before Castiel's lungs just couldn't work any harder, just couldn't take any more. They were agonizing minutes and Dean spent everyone trying to memorize him, and wracking his brain for some last minute miracle. Dean hovered over Cas, running his fingers through his hair, making comforting sounds and impossible promises - _It's ok, Cas. You're ok. I've got you..._ Cas' breath slowed to a stop, his eyes never leaving Dean, whose presence making it easier. He felt unafraid and un-alone, and that was all he'd wanted. With his last strength he pulled their clasped hands to his chest to let Dean know he wanted him closer. Dean leaned down and pressed their lips together simply, for the last time.

He pulled away to see Cas' eyes closed. Dean laid down beside him, never letting go of his hand, and snuggled into the crook of his neck. He felt Castiel's face turn toward his hair. He thought he felt his lips press into it.

They laid like that until Cas was gone. Dean felt the former angel's chest still, his heart still, his fingers loosen around his own.

It was over.

No more dreamless nights, no more comfortable mornings, no more lovers' comraderie - no more Castiel.

Dean laid there for a long time after he was gone. He laid there staring at nothing, feeling the body beside him, not entirely able to reconcile that it was no longer Cas. Maybe this was a nightmare. Maybe if he didn't move, maybe if he prayed really hard, maybe if...maybe...

Dean was simply not able to get up. It felt like time had stopped and he was the only man left in the world.

Downstairs, Bobby was at the stove whistling to himself as his breakfast sizzled and popped in the frying pan. He turned to get something out of the fridge when he saw him and froze. Sitting at the table, Sam saw Bobby go stone still, the look on Bobby's face putting a chill in Sam's blood. He turned to see what had startled him and was met with a sight he would never forget - Dean was standing shirtless, in a complete daze at the bottom of the stairs. His chest, hands and forearms were bloody...and his lips. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. He swayed on his feet.

Sam warily approached his brother. Bobby set down his spatula, pulled off his apron and tossed it aside and hurried over as well. Sam put a tentative hand on his brother's shoulder, "Dean?" Sam noticed it took a long time for Dean's eyes to find him, and that frightened him.

"He...I couldn't...What..." was all Dean could get out, barely a whisper. It was hardly words at all. Then his eyes drifted again.

Fearing the worst, Sam ran up the stairs and swung wildly into the spare room to find Castiel already gone. He looked at the fallen angel lying cold on the bed - if there wasn't a sickeningly gray pallor to his skin, he would almost look peaceful. But then again, Castiel was covered in blood, the sheets were already turning brown with it. For a brief moment Sam wondered how long his poor brother had been lying there with the corpse of his closest friend. He stared at Cas, once indestructible. Once threatening and powerful and quirky. Now just...silent. Gone.

Sam turned away from the image, it didn't really compute in his mind. It would be better to think about Dean; easier in a way, to worry about his brother than to let his thoughts marinate on the fact that they'd just lost someone.

Sam clamored back down the stairs, seeing Bobby lifting Dean's bobbling head with a finger under his chin in hopes of getting him to meet his eyes. He held Dean's face in his hands, "Look at me boy," he said gently. "Dean, come on, look at me." Sam came up beside him. "He's in shock," Bobby said quietly, the worry in his voice not hidden. "Cas?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Sam shook his head sadly. Bobby understood. They'd known this was coming, but somehow it didn't make it any easier.

The state Dean was in was hard for Sam to look at, and as he did he had to fight the urge to vomit. Bobby looked at him with nervous eyes and Sam's brain was racing - what if Dean was really broken this time? How many friends was he gonna have to bury? How many times would be too much?

Bobby left Dean in Sam's capable hands and went upstairs to Castiel. Sam led his brother to the couch, pulling him gently by the arm. Dean sat with his head bowed, still utterly detached from reality. He was lost in his own mind, and when he looked up again it felt like years had gone by, though it was only minutes. His little brother was on his knees in front of him with a washbasin of warm water and a towel that he was using to dab Dean's face. Sam pressed the warm cloth to his brother's lips, trying to be gentle, but also desperate to remove Castiel's now dried blood before Dean caught a glimpse of himself and was further traumatized.

They were silent. Sam's heart broke for his brother. Every time he found something good, something simple, the universe just snatched it away.

Sam took Dean's hand in his, turning it over and running the cloth over his palm. Dean looked down at the action, entranced. He watched closely, like he didn't understand it. His mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once and it left him dangerously confused and unfocused.

Bobby came back down the stairs and immediately went to the kitchen. After a few long silent minutes he came in and stood in front of Dean, holding out a steaming mug. Dean looked at it as if it took his brain a very long time to process what he was supposed to do with it. Then he slowly took it, letting it warm his hands - he hadn't noticed they were cold.

Sam and Bobby went to the kitchen and spoke in hushed tones. Dean didn't bother to over hear them. After a moment he suddenly stood up and Sam rushed back into view, having heard him move. "Dean?" he asked worried. But Dean threw up a hand, like a wave. He wasn't sure what he was trying to say with it - _I'm fine_ maybe. Or _Stop talking_. Or _Leave me alone,_ perhaps.

He ignored his brother's apparent concern and trudged silently to the shower.

Sam hoped Dean would cry, he needed to, but he didn't. He couldn't. He only watched Castiel's blood swirl away down the drain and felt a disturbing pain of regret that he was throwing away the last part of him. But he didn't cry.

He got dressed and went downstairs, walking right past Bobby and Sam, who stood when he came in, watching him like he was explosive. Dean didn't spare them a glance as he went outside, grabbing an axe and starting in on a pile of wood. Sam and Bobby watched from the porch. It didn't even look like he was taking his frustration out on the wood - he was just chopping. Methodically. Calmly. It was unnerving.

He built a pyre quickly, the process going quicker when Sam silently came out and joined him. Dean couldn't help his brain knowing what Bobby was doing inside - getting Cas ready to burn, wrapping him up. Like they'd done with their father. Like they'd done with Bobby's wife. Like they did with everyone they loved. In the end, the fire always took them - Mary, Ellen, Jo, Ash. Everyone eventually. Now, even the _one_ person Dean had foolishly been relieved to think would be impermeable to the Winchester curse.

As if Dean had conjured him with his thoughts, Bobby came out and whispered to Sam. Dean could hear but he pretended not to; "If he wants to see him, he should do it now," Bobby whispered. Sam went over to his brother, arguing with himself internally about how he should say this.

"Dean? You can... go and see him now. Say goodbye. Look at him one last time before... Bobby wraps him up."

Dean stopped chopping and thought for a minute. He didn't know if he could do it, look at Cas with no life in him. But his brain told him he needed it, that he should see him once more so the last image he had of him wasn't of Cas straining to breathe and covered in blood.

He dropped the axe and went inside.

It felt like walking the Green Mile. Every step took an eternity. He got to the spare bedroom... and there he was.

Bobby had done a good job and Dean was appreciative for the time he'd taken; it was obvious he'd cared for him. He'd cleaned him up and washed his hair and combed it. He'd put him in a dark blue button-up and black slacks that were nicer than any of them had ever worn in life. The irony of that almost amused Dean. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean thought that blue shirt would make Castiel's eyes really shine.

Like this, Cas almost looked like he was just sleeping. Dean stood beside him, looking down into his passive face, noting how his skin was so pale and perfect and it made his eyebrows and dark eyelashes stand out in contrast. With nothing to stop him now, Dean let himself admit that Castiel was beautiful.

Something was off though...Dean squinted down at Cas until it hit him. His hair was combed back off his face, and while it made him look very handsome, it didn't look like Cas. Jimmy Novak, maybe. But that's not who he needed to say goodbye to. Dean reached down and mussed his hair gently, letting his fingers run through the soft strands a little too long.

It was dusk when Sam, Dean and Bobby stood in front of the fire, the heat and smoke burning their eyes. Sam leaned on a longer piece of wood, staring at the monstrous though well-crafted pyre they'd constructed. His face was full of regret. He wished he could have saved him, done something. And he could feel Dean beside him, not crying, not moving, just...there.

Dean felt Sam looking at him. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Dean asked staring forward his eyes glazed over and distant.

"What, like a prayer?" Sam asked.

There was a moment of quiet while Dean worked up the courage to say it - "About why he was in my bed. Why we were together."

Sam watched his frighteningly numbed brother barely put an effort into instigating. "No," Sam said, in a definite tone. Maybe there was more he should say, he thought, but that would have to do for now.

Sam knew the truth. Bobby knew too. Dean saw that now. The truth was out even if it had never been put into words and that was all Dean needed to know. The rest of the night was spent in silence, as minutes turned to hours and the fire began to die down. Sam and Bobby left Dean alone with the remaining smolder, not sure if it was the right thing to do or not, but knowing he wasn't ready to leave it.

It was almost five in the morning when Dean found his way up Bobby's porch steps into the house. It felt almost wrong to leave the ashes that had once been Cas, but he just couldn't sit there any more. He made it to the living room, but didn't know what to do with himself after that. He just stood there, awkwardly, exhausted but not wanting to sleep; awake, but not wanting to think; sad, but not letting himself cry; angry, but too tired to break anything.

When he felt a slight breeze blow through the room, and heard the ruffled sound of wings, it felt like a steel knife to his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel a presence in the room, but didn't dare acknowledge it. He wanted it to be Cas, and he knew it wouldn't be.

"Heya Dean-o." Gabriel's cheery words sounded strange in such a gentle and hesitant tone. The angel could feel Dean's heart sink at the confirmation that he was not Castiel. "I need to talk to you."

Dean let out a cold laugh. _Why am I not surprised?_ he thought bitterly. It was like Heaven knew exactly when he was hurting most and was sure to never let him have that moment to himself. "What could we possibly have to talk about?"

"You."

Dean turned toward the archangel and stared at him with empty eyes. "I'm not in a chatting mood."

"No kidding," Gabriel's sarcasm attempted to bring a lightness to the air of the room that simply couldn't be acquired.

"Explain something to me," Dean started, barely keeping it together, "how does God let all of this happen? How does Castiel save the world, then save Heaven, then drown to death in his own blood? Does He care? Does He even know? Explain to me, how _nothing_ is fair."

Gabriel's eyes were sympathetic. "That's what we need to talk about Dean. You're life _has_ been unfair."

"No shit. I don't like to sit in a corner and pity myself, but damn..."

"I know."

"Do you?" Dean shot.

"Maybe more than you do," Gabriel admitted.

Dean cocked his head at the archangel. "What the Hell does that mean?"

Gabriel took a deep breath and shifted his weight, there was so much the Winchesters had been kept in the dark about. But now it was time to tell some truths - "Things were supposed to be different for you Dean. You would have been a different man, had a different kind of life, if we hadn't dragged you into our celestial pissing match. There was a whole other plan laid out for you where your mother never died, your brother never got used like a freak demon pawn, where you never even knew we existed and you were normal and intellectual and sensitive and in love. You went to school and played football and had a blissfully unremarkable life. Sam too. He was meant to marry Jessica. You were gonna be his best man, by the way. Your father was gonna walk her down the aisle in lieu of her own father's absence. You were gonna pay taxes and have kids and worry about cholesterol. Castiel was gonna go on eternally and contently ignorant of human emotion. But none of it happened like that, because of Azazel. Because of _us._ We insisted on dragging you into this thing with Michael and Lucifer. That all screwed up the life you could have had. Granted, you did save the world. So I guess everyone was right about you after all. But it doesn't change the fact that you've given a lot. More than you know, I think. And we can't go back. But we can try to make it right."

Dean just stared at Gabriel, the hurt of knowing everything their family could have had, but never did, pulling and tearing at his already threadbare heart. "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked his voice shaking, genuinely not understanding Gabriel's angle.

"The point is, the man you were intended to be would have just let himself love and be loved. Love would have been easy for _him_ - for _that_ Dean. Not so much for you. You've seen too much to let yourself."

Dean was taken aback by the bizarrely accurate insight into his psyche. He generally tried not to think about himself abstractly like that, so it was strange when Gabriel hit the nail on the head with such ease.

Gabriel continued, "Now that you've lost Castiel, you realize how you could have been happy and the labels and logistics of the relationship wouldn't have mattered. Right?"

Dean knew that he was right, and he didn't have it in him to argue, "Yeah, well...too little too late."

"Maybe not."

Dean just squinted at him. He was too tired, too over all of this bullshit to bother asking for clarification.

"You had to experience this, Dean. You had to know what you could stand to loose. I know, it was horrible. And I'm sorry for that." And damn if that didn't sound sincere.

"I don't understand what you're saying to me," Dean sighed, his brain so sluggish with exhaustion.

"I'm not here to rub salt in your wounds Dean. I'm here to heal them. You get something everybody at some point prays for, but never gets - Divine Intervention." Gabriel took a moment to let those words sink in. He saw it ever so slowly dawning on Dean, and Gabriel almost smirked, "God wants Castiel back on the map."

Gabriel could barely handle the overwhelming volume of emotion that he could feel flare in Dean's soul at the suggestion that Cas may not be gone forever after all. He tried to lighten the mood with his never ending supply of diffusive charm, "Now quit your brooding, Batman. Not to worry. I'll bring him back good as new."

Dean stared at him, disbelieving, "You'll bring him back...back to life?"

"Uh, _duh_. They guy's my brother after all."

"But you said...I thought you couldn't..."

Gabriel shrugged. "I lied."

Dean stared at him again, trying to process that information, but finding he simply wasn't able. It didn't make any sense.

Gabriel saw he was utterly perplexed and rolled his eyes, sighing. "I'm an _archangel_, jackass. You think I can't raise one little human? Dean, honestly... You're gonna give me a complex."

"You said he wasn't human. You _said_ you couldn't."

"Yeah. And then I said, _'I lied'_. Keep up, will ya."

Dean's brows were knit as he asked, "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because things play out a certain way for a reason. There were things you had to understand about yourself, epiphanies your pea-sized brain had to come to naturally that my saving him before schedule would have thrown off track."

There was a moment of quiet and then Dean seethed, "..._Don't_."

Gabriel was confused by his reaction. He should be ecstatic, right? Maybe the human had misheard, "Dean-" he started to explain but was cut off.

"_Don't_. Don't you fuck with me about this," his words came out like acid and his eyes were feeling hot again. He choked it back.

Suddenly Gabriel understood. Dean always looked at Gabriel as the trickster, it stood to reason he'd be hesitant to believe Gabriel would do something so mammoth, so good, just out of he kindness of his heart. Dean couldn't stand to believe it if it was just another trick. "You're really gonna bring him back? You can do that? Right now?"

"Those are the orders from upstairs," he nodded.

"So...then, you just let him die? You could have stopped it all along - You could have saved him that pain!"

"You're not listening, Dean. It had to be this way."

Dean tried to understand that, but all he could think was that this month of frayed nerves, Cas suffering and literally dying, and choking on his own blood, this was all part of some scheme? Yet another Heaven-orchestrated manipulation. Dean was seeing red, "_Bring him back now you son of a bitch_." His voice was as harsh as it got.

"Watch you're tone with me, hairless monkey," Gabriel's tone was light but his eyes betrayed the underlying irritation.

Dean's eyes were glassy, he shook his head at Gabriel. His voice was low with emotion as he accused, "This was cruel."

Gabriel took a moment to observe this man, this very complicated man, before answering. "This was a lesson."

Dean shook his head harder still, not heeding the warning in Gabriel's tone. "How could you do this? Not just to me, how could you do that to him? Let him die - like that - how could you? You heartless _dick_!"

Dean's sadness was turning to rage right before Gabriel's eyes and he wasn't the slightest bit surprised. He kept his cool, "Perhaps you haven't noticed - I'm not subtle. Not about anything. There was a lesson here, as I said. And you've learned it. Now I give you a second chance." He stepped close to Dean and his eyes were sincere as he said, "Don't waste it."

"What the Hell are you going on about a lesson! What lesson!" Dean was starting to yell. He just wanted Cas back already.

Gabe was really starting to get irritated that Dean's was missing the point, "God, you're thick Winchester! Here, let me spell it out for you in crayon: _You. And Cas_. _That's_ the lesson."

Dean simply stared, so Gabriel continued, "You've saved this world, you've done your part and you've suffered for it. Cas has given everything for the greater good, and he's suffered for it. Then you finally found each other in the dark and it was pretty damn good, wasn't it? But if you'd had the chance to, you'd have screwed it up eventually. So I showed you what you could have, if you let yourself and didn't get in your own way. So... Consider this reparations from upper-management."

This was all too much, Gabriel could feel the overwhelming weight of it all on Dean's soul. The poor man was literally doubting his own sanity. Gabriel tried to explain, "It's rare, that my father's got anything to say. We're usually floating around in a sea of questions - _what does he want? How do we be good sons if we barely know him?_ I know you know what that's like. But I'm pleased to report, he's been watching after all. Cas was right. He didn't forget. He's not ignoring us. He's not ignoring you, Dean. This is my father trying to give you what you've always wanted - a soul mate. A best friend. Someone to love, who loves you. What you always should have been allowed to have."

Gabriel smiled at him, and Dean allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe, as Castiel had said the first day they met, good things do happen.

Gabriel backed away from Dean a few steps, a sly smile on his face and raised his hand - when Gabriel snapped his fingers, Cas appeared between he and Dean, dressed in the blue dress shirt and black slacks, sleeping standing up but otherwise looking alive and healthy.

Dean stopped breathing. His heart jumped into his throat. He stared at Castiel, unable to move, unable to think.

Cas opened his eyes sleepily, and as they peered around Bobby's living room they looked bluer than ever. When his eyes landed on Dean, a slow smile spread across his face. He looked at Gabriel and asked, "Is this Heaven?"

Gabriel just looked between the two men and rolled his eyes, "Carpe Diem, boys." His shot them a silly smile, which after a moment faded into an etherial, affectionate gaze as he said, "Be happy."

Then with a gust of wind and the sound of wings, he was gone.

Dean didn't wait, he went straight to Castiel and hugged him tight, the tears he'd been desperately holding in all day finally slipping out. He couldn't help it. He felt Castiel's hands softly travel up his back. Cas chuckled lowly and Dean pulled away to look at his face. His smile hadn't faded. He said, examining Dean, "You feel very real."

For a moment, Dean thought his heart would explode, he felt it throbbing so hard in his chest. Dean hooked his hand behind Cas' neck and pulled him in for an almost violent kiss - the kind of kiss that really says everything you're too clumsy to get out with words. When they parted, Cas' eyes were glazed over and he blinked slowly at Dean. "Very real..." he whispered.

Suddenly Dean laughed. It was loud and abrupt and exploded out of him without warning. It surprised the crap out of Cas, who raised his eyebrows at this strange man. But Dean couldn't help it. What a friggin' day. What a _month_. He didn't know whether to run laps or sleep for a week. He was ready to burst at the seams with the overwhelming amount of emotion he was feeling. Dean looked at Cas, and the former angel noted that the laughter put a spark in his green eyes that made him look like a happy, simple, younger man. Castiel thought that seeing Dean happy was a perfect way to spend eternity.

Dean dropped a hand heavily on Cas' shoulder and said, "This isn't Heaven. This is South Dakota."

Cas' head tilted to the side as his brows furrowed. He remembered dying, every awful moment...

"You're not dead, Cas. Gabriel brought you back. You're alive."

Cas' eyes drifted around the room as he processed that. Could this be real? He argued, "I was dead..."

"And now you're _alive_," Dean said impatiently, gripping him tightly, as if poised to shake the reality of the situation into him if necessary.

Cas smiled as he accepted that it might actually be true. It did feel real after all. This Dean seemed far too accurate to be a facsimile, and Castiel was well-aware of the limitations of Heaven when it came to re-creating something Earthly. He looked at Dean, taking in the sight of him from top to bottom. Honestly...he looked horrendous. He was pale and exhausted and his eyes were red and he looked half-crazed and a little like he was tweaking. But in his uniquely-Dean way, he was still beautiful.

Dean could see he was being observed. Usually that kind of thing would make him uncomfortable. But not today. "You thought you were in Heaven? When you...saw me?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Cas admitted, flatly and honestly.

Dean felt something spilling over inside of him, a flooding warmth in his chest, something he'd been fighting all his life. But he couldn't fight it anymore - or rather, he didn't bother trying. In that moment, he let himself fall in love. And it felt good. It felt better than anything else he'd ever felt. And suddenly there were thirty-some-odd years of relief flowing through him now that he'd finally let go and just let himself feel what he'd always wanted to feel, but had never been brave enough to. It was never the right time, and never the right person. That was different now. And it lifted a weight of solitude from his soul. He leaned his forehead against Castiel's as he wrapped his arms around his waist. Dean took the first truly full breath of his life as he pressed against his former-angel, breathing in the scent of him and just feeling him there at his side.

"You know you never get to leave me again now, right?"

Cas smiled widely, letting out a quiet laugh.

He never would.


	10. EPILOGUE

**EPILOGUE**

Saying that Bobby Singer was surprised to come into his living room at five thirty in the morning to find Dean Winchester with his tongue in the mouth of an Angel of the Lord who they'd literally burned on a pyre not ten hours before would be an understatement.

It was a bit, shall we say, jarring.

He stood there at the bottom of the stairs for minutes on end, eyes wide, trying to decide if he should get his shotgun or retreat back up the stairs to give them privacy.

Castiel saw him first and greeted him with a kiss-flushed smile and a, "Hello Bobby."

Dean whirled around, he let loose a relieved laugh and blurted, "Bobby, look! It's Cas!" Bobby didn't respond, he was incapable of words.

The standard Holy Water test was done. And salt. And silver. And after Bobby was sufficiently convinced Cas wasn't evil, he clapped a hand on his back and told him he was glad to see him back from the dead. It was clear from his eyes that while he meant it, his mind was still working through the impossibility of the whole thing.

Forty minutes later Sam awoke to find someone perched calmly on the side of his bed. When Sam's eyes finally blinked the 'dead' angel Castiel into focus he shot up and back against the headboard gasping, "Holy crap!"

Across the room Dean erupted into a fit of laughter. Poor Sam was baffled.

"Sorry Sammy, I couldn't resist," Dean said, breathless with his amusement at the look on his brother's face as his eyes darted back and forth from Dean to Cas.

"Your brother can have a very dark sense of humor," Castiel smiled at Sam, who was looking at him with terrified and confused eyes. "It appears that you were right in assuming that Gabriel should have had the power to heal me. It turns out he was fully capable of raising me from the dead. As you can see."

It sank in slowly, but eventually, Sam was overjoyed. He even awkwardly hugged the former angel.

Later that night Dean and Castiel were laying together in the bed in the spare room, warm and comfortable and exhausted. There were the preliminary _Welcome Back to Earth_ niceties between the four of them before Dean and Cas essentially excused themselves for the day. They'd locked the door behind them and not been out since. This first reunion had been overwhelming and so sweet and so raw in its unhidden desperation, Dean and Castiel both doubted if anyone had ever felt anything like it before. It felt like magic. This was the first time they were together where nothing could be mistaken for friendship or favor or basic need. As they lay there after, Castiel turned Dean's hand over in his own, examining it closely, memorizing every detail.

Dean said quietly, as he was leaned back lazily against Cas' chest, "Castiel, the mortal man, back from the dead..."

Cas laughed lightly.

"You know, if you had never jumped, we would never be here."

Castiel thought about that, but said nothing. He knew it was true.

"I'm glad you did," Dean said. It was a big deal for him, to say it out loud.

"As am I."

"Hm," Dean laughed to himself. "Cas, 'normal dude'." He thought about how strange it would be to think of Castiel that way even now. "You're not gonna become some amphetamine-popping, orgy-throwing, hippie-type guy are you?"

Castiel simply tilted his head ever so slightly, as he always did when he could make absolutely no sense of Dean's rambling. "Why would I throw an orgy?" Castiel asked.

After Cas came back, there were no more mystery-ailments. There was no more sneaking around, creeping through the house in the middle of the night to get to each other. There was no more hesitation and no hiding what they were to each other.

And it wasn't perfect.

Sometimes they made each other crazy-mad. Occasionally they would even come to fisticuffs, both being so stubborn. More often than not, those fisticuffs transitioned bizarrely easily into sex, which transitioned into a clumsy post-coitus apology from one or the other.

There was some emotional fall-out over the depth of their feelings once they came to terms with the fact that _holy crap it's love_, and then, _holy crap it's forever_. Neither of them had actually been in a long-term relationship before and knowing they'd immediately plunged into that was daunting. Not every problem could be solved with sex, but by god did they try.

Cas still had a lot to learn about being human and Dean had a lot to learn about allowing yourself to love. But being together was what they'd both wanted and never realized was right there in front of them.

Even when Castiel found himself faced with the oddly easily-made decision of giving up his Grace and he had gripped that charm tight and took the plunge into mortality, he didn't yet realize the true extent of _why_.

Late one night, after several months of humanity with the Winchesters and Bobby Singer at his side, Castiel glanced over at Dean sprawled face down across their bed, looking sweeter in sleep than he ever did awake. His beautiful face was smooth and vulnerable and completely without worry. His jacket and a sawed-off were thrown haphazardly on the dresser. In the quiet of the night, the rhythm of Dean's breathing beside him felt like the the most perfect thing in creation. Thinking back to the way they'd been before his Fall, Cas laughed quietly at his own naivety. He ran a hand through sleeping Dean's hair and shook his head, still smiling. He never thought he'd end up here. He never knew to hope for it. But he thank Heaven he dove into this.

Grace for Dean?

Best. Trade. Ever.

* * *

><p><strong>Holy mother of crap, it's finally done! Considering this started as a one-shot I'm pretty jazzed that it turned into all this.<strong>

**Sorry, sorry, sorry for killing Castiel! - but it was a happy ending! So I hope you forgive me.**

**Anyway, THANKS SO MUCH to anyone who reviewed or added this story as a favorite. I'm new to posting so I really appreciate it. You guys are awesome for being super nice and enthusiastic. It always makes me really happy to see when someone likes the story.**

**I think there shall definitely be more stories to come...**


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